


Gotta Keep Moving

by byoomgothegunboi



Series: The Washington Heights Project [3]
Category: Hamilton - Miranda, In the Heights - Miranda
Genre: (okay not really minor), :), F/F, F/M, M/M, actually fourth, and i still don't know how to tag stories, and in some cases, and some minor original characters - Freeform, but anyway, idk man, it's my third work, please enjoy, really NOT having fun, they're all just having fun
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-31
Updated: 2019-04-23
Packaged: 2019-05-16 09:20:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 18
Words: 61,400
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14808569
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/byoomgothegunboi/pseuds/byoomgothegunboi
Summary: Days pass, people come and go, the world keeps moving.For the residents of Washington Heights, however, sometimes that's a hard pill to swallow.





	1. Usnavi

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> *drags myself out of the pits of hell*  
> Hey
> 
> It's been a minute. Here's another installment of the Washington Heights Project. Enjoy :)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note 1: Idk what I did but I published the work without publishing the chapter? All I was tryna do was add tags (which proves how incompetent I am with this stuff) and it suddenly... uploaded. So please let me know if something is missing or off.
> 
> Note 2: This thingy is not going to be NEARLY as consistently updated as the other two thingies... but I'll do my best. Bear with me :)
> 
> With that, HERE GOES NOTHING

“Hello hello hello!” Usnavi announced, walking into the store. Instead of a familiar jingly bell, he was greeted with the electronic “ding-dong” of a much more technologically-advanced establishment.

“Hi Usnavi!” The woman at the counter called back. He liked to keep his visits to A&P Supermarket (the rival franchise) to an absolute minimum, so he always went around the same time. Marie was always there manning the reception.

“How ya doin’, Marie?” he asked, smiling.

“I’m doin’ great. You’re here for your pickup, right?"

“Yep.”

“Great, let me just get that started…” She swiveled around in her chair to clack away at a keyboard.

“So how’ve you been doing, my friend? I haven’t seen you in a while.”

“I’ve been great! I just got back from South Carolina a couple days ago, it was really fun, and it was my first time on an airplane, so that was quite an experience.”

Well, describing the trip as ‘fun’ may have been an exaggeration. But Marie really didn’t need to know that.

“That’s real cool — but believe me, airplanes are only fun the first couple of times. I have family out-of-state that I visit, and when you’re always comin’ and goin’ it–”

She paused.

“Huh. That’s weird.”

She clicked a few more keys and frowned at the computer screen.

“I don’t have a prescription for you, Usnavi.”

“Wait, what?”

“Yeah, it’s usually right here, but there’s none filed this time around.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. Do you know if your doctor writes your prescriptions for you?”

“I would guess so, but I really don’t know.” Abuela Claudia always called to make sure his pills were ready for pickup, and after she passed, he went at his usual time and they were always there.

“Well, it might be an error, but we can’t give them to you today... for safety reasons, y’know how it goes. He might be trying to change things up and we can’t give you the wrong medication. You should call him and check it out.”

Considering he’d been taking the pills for as long as he could remember, he doubted there would be any change now. Some link in the chain must’ve been broken somehow.

“Maybe. I’ll have to call him.”

He wasn’t gonna call him. He didn’t even know if his doctor was a _him_.

“Okay. But until then, I don’t have anything to give you.”

“Uh… okay. That’s different.”

“And if your doctor IS trying to get you off the pills, then… this marks the end of an era,” Marie joked.

“Wow. I never thought this day would come,” he replied, smiling. “I guess this is… goodbye?"

“Don’t be dramatic. You’ll come in from time to time and say hi, I’m sure.”

There was no way in hell he was ever coming back to his rival franchise if he didn’t have to.

“Maybe I will. Well, see you later then, I guess. Have a good day."

“You too, Usnavi. Take care.”

For the first time in four years, he walked out of A&P Supermarket empty-handed.

He caught the subway across town back to the bodega, stopping on the way to buy a pretzel for lunch. As he leaned on one of the metal poles while the train car rocked back and forth, two girls in front of him caught his eye.

They were both facing the other way so he couldn’t see their faces, but something about the way they stood made him think he may have seen them somewhere before. One was taller than the other, and her curly dark hair was pulled up into a ponytail and off her thin shoulders. She held herself with a definite air of confidence, and sported a light pink blouse and jeans. The shorter one had lighter-colored hair and a slightly darker complexion, which matched her yellow sweater and white shorts. Her hair, too, was thick and curly, pulled into a messy bun at the top of her head.

They chatted quietly with each other, and he couldn’t help but watch as that familiar tugging sensation pulled at the back of his mind. Although their expressions and voices were subdued so as to not call attention to themselves in the crowded subway car, they both seemed to carry an air of excitement. This only further piqued Usnavi’s interest, and after a while the tugging sensation was accompanied by a sharp pounding of his head, which he chose to ignore. He had no more pills, so he had to get used to the pain, anyway.

He got off at the next stop, and so did the two girls. _Maybe I’ve seen them around the barrio before,_ he concluded while he trailed behind them, trying very hard not to look like he was stalking them or something.

It was a task that proved to be rather difficult, as he realized that they were walking the exact same path that he took back to the bodega. Thankfully, they didn’t seem to notice him, and he wasn’t quite willing to pick up his pace to overtake them. Finally, the bodega came into view, and he put the mystery of the girls in the back of his mind as he started to speed up to get to work.

But then, they walked _straight_ into his store.

He hesitated for a second and nearly tripped, his mind getting the better of his feet. _What are the chances that two people who caught my eye on the subway are headed to the EXACT same place that I am?_ He thought, frowning. Maybe it was the incident with John’s dad that was messing with his head, but he felt something off about the whole situation. Maybe he shouldn’t go in — maybe they were there to find _him_ and take him away for a secret that had been kept from him–

_You’re being an idiot,_ he scolded himself. _You WORK here, and it’s a STORE. People go into stores. It’s what they’re there for._

He shook his head and entered. As the bodega bell rang, though, he realized he was not far off from his conspiracy theory.

The taller one was hugging John tightly and murmuring something the couldn’t quite hear. The younger one was behind her, checking out the area, and she turned at the sound of the bell ringing.

She gasped and pointed straight at him. “What the fuck? _You’re_ alive too?"

Quickly, the taller girl whipped around to face him, and upon seeing both girls’ faces, he finally recognized them.

“Shoot, no, sorry,” John cut in quickly, stepping in between Usnavi and the girls. “This isn’t Alexander. Angelica, Peggy, meet Usnavi. He’s a friend of mine who happens to look exactly like… uh… Alex. And Usnavi, this is Angelica and Peggy. I told you about them. They were my friends before… well...”

“Before his dad killed him,” Peggy finished.

John snorted. “Sure, you could put it that way.”

“Yeah, I remember,” Usnavi said, recalling the polaroid of the three girls on John’s wall. “You’re… sisters, right? And Alexander’s wife–” he looked at John– “was their sister, too?’

“Yeah, that’s Eliza,” Peggy answered, then turned to John. “And before you say anything, I just gotta know: she’s _actually_ dead, right?”

“Peggy!” Angelica scolded.

“Hey. I mean, that’s what we thought about John, so…”

John smiled and nodded. “It’s a fair point. But no, sorry, only I have membership in my back-from-the-afterlife club.”

“Ah, well. It was worth a shot,” Peggy replied, almost looking disappointed.

There was a second of silence that was broken by Angelica.

“Well anyway, it’s a pleasure to meet you… Usnavi,” she said, sticking out a hand.

“Likewise.” As she shook his hand, she looked him dead in in the eye. There seemed to be something sharp there, not in a mean way, but just in an intelligent way. Like she was issuing some sort of challenge. Whatever it was, it was pretty damn intimidating, and he broke the eye contact, turning instead to Peggy.

“So, what brings you guys to the bodega?”

“Well, John told us he wasn’t dead, so we came to see for ourselves.”

“So your dad really _lied_ to us for all these years?” Angelica asked John.

“Yep,” he muttered.

“I told you not to trust the damn Laurenses.”

“Peggy!” Angelica scolded again.

“Am I wrong?”

Angelica shook her head and looked at John apologetically. “Well, we’re glad you’re back with us, in any case. What’ve you been up to all these years?”

As John chatted with the girls, Usnavi squeezed behind the counter to help customers. He tried to ignore the pounding behind his eyebrow that was slowly growing stronger. Seeing their picture was one thing, but meeting the girls in person was a whole other experience. He had the distinct feeling that he’d _met_ them before — it was like meeting John all over again.

And what did they have in common? Alexander. It was getting incredibly difficult not to believe that he didn’t have a connection with that man.

And as the days passed, things only got _more_ difficult.

“Monsieur Laurens, mon ami! ‘E lives!” A tall man bellowed one morning, breezing through the doors with his arms grandly outstretched. He was followed by a very pretty woman in a short green dress, smiling cheerily.

“Monsieur Lafayette!” John cried, practically running over to the man who promptly kissed him on both cheeks and held his face in his hands, examining him.

“You ‘ave been missed, mon ami. I cannot believe you are alive.”

“Good to see ya too, Laf,” John grinned. “You haven’t changed either.”

Lafayette jumped excitedly and whirled around, gesturing to the woman.

“Oh, but I ‘ave changed! Look, ‘ere is my wife Adrienne. We met in France and got married a year ago.”

Adrienne gave another bright smile and gave John another two kisses on each cheek. Every move she made was so elegant, it almost seemed as if she were floating.

“Eet ees nice to meet you, Monsieur Laurens. Lafayette ‘as told me much about you.”

Her french accent was noticeably thicker than her husband’s, but even her voice was smoother than anything he’d ever heard.

Lafayette laughed jovially, looking around the store.

“Well, it seems that I may ‘ave been a bit off in my tell– AAAH!”

He locked eyes with Usnavi, who was standing at the counter, and promptly tripped on his foot, tumbled backward and knocked over an entire stand of chips. He scrambled up quickly, brushing off before turning and staring at Usnavi again.

By this time, John was quite used to these reactions. He took a stand in front of Lafayette while Adrienne sighed and began to pick up the chips.

“Lafayette, this is–”

“Alexander! Nobody told me that you are alive, too!”

“Lafayette!” John repeated, louder this time. “That’s not Alexander. It just really, really looks like him. This is Usnavi, my friend. This is his store.”

Lafayette stared at him, cocking his head slightly.

“Are you _sure_?”

“Yes,” John replied, exasperated. “Believe me, I thought they were the same person, too.”

Cautiously, Lafayette approached the counter where Usnavi was standing rather uncomfortably.

“You are… Usnavi?”

Even his _accent_ sounded familiar.

“Yes. That’s me.”

“Oh. _Bonjour, monsieur Usnavi. Enchanté._ ”

“ _Bonjour, monsieur Lafayette. Je suis désolé, je ne comprends pas. Qu'es-ce que t'as dit?_ ”

Lafayette gasped. “ _Tu parles francais?_ ”

“ _Non._ ”

“You speak French?” John asked him incredulously.

“I just told him, no, I don’t.”

“Um… yeah, in French.”

Usnavi frowned. “Wait, what?”

“You ‘ave just spoken in perfect French,” Lafayette informed him, speaking slowly.

“No I didn’t.”

“Yes, you did,” John responded, like it was obvious.

“I did?”

“ _Oui, mon ami._ ”

“ _Es-tu sûre?_ ”

Nobody spoke, all of them staring at Usnavi. He looked at them all, fairly sure that they were going crazy, until he thought back to the conversation and–

“Oh my god, I can speak French!”

Lafayette laughed disbelievingly. “You really did not know?”

“I’ve never done that before!”

He looked at John, who just shrugged.

_Since when have I known French?_ He thought. _And where the hell could I have learned it?_ He was quite startled by the fact, as anyone might be, that he had just picked up a language out of thin air. Maybe he learned it before he came to the barrio.

A sudden thought occurred to him.

“Could Alexander speak French?”

“Yeah, he could,” a voice answered.

“Well, that’s a coincidence– WHAT THE FUCK!” Usnavi yelled, stumbling backward.

There was a gigantic fucking man sitting _right next to him_ on the counter that had answered his question. He seemed to just appear out of thin air.

“Hercules!” John laughed, stepping up to him. Said man jumped off the counter to clap him on the back and pull him into a hug.

“Hey, John.”

“Hercules!”

“Lafayette!” The giant ghost-man turned to Lafayette next and they did some sort of handshake they’d obviously practiced quite a lot before. “And bonjour, madame Adrienne,” he finished, giving the woman a kiss on each cheek.

“Good to see you again, Herc.”

“Good to see you too, my not-dead friend.”

“Y-you just…” Usnavi stuttered, his heart still racing from his sudden appearance. The hardest thing to comprehend was that everyone was acting like it was completely normal for an easily-six-foot-tall man to appear out of nowhere.

“‘E does that oftentimes,” Lafayette chuckled. “‘E is our… friend who can sneak up on a… ‘ow you say? A tiny mouse.”

“Herc, this is Usnavi,” John added, finally introducing the two. “Who is in no way related to Alexander.”

“As far as we know,” Lafayette interjected.

“As far as we know. And Usnavi, this is Hercules Mulligan.”

“You’re the tailor,” Usnavi said looking up at him. He recognized the name from John’s wall of friends.

“That’s me,” Hercules grinned. “Sorry for sneakin’ up on ya. But I won’t say it’s not gonna happen again.”

“This is so great!” John said, hopping up onto the counter. “We’re all back together. Except for Alexander, of course, he’s still dead. But now we got Usnavi.”

“You are _sure_ that they are not the same? ‘E is not just joking with us?”

John glanced at Usnavi before responding. “Yes, I’m sure.”

“But ‘e speaks FRENCH!”

“So do 200 million other people,” Hercules pointed out.

“But Usnavi does not know _why_ ‘e speaks French!”

Hercules didn’t have a rebuttal for that, and neither did John.

Neither did Usnavi, actually. John looked at him questioningly and all he could do was shrug his shoulders.

“I don’t know where I could’ve learned it. Maybe I was in France before I came to the barrio.”

“Wait, you do not know where you were before you got here?” Adrienne asked.

“No, I don’t. I don’t remember _anything_ about myself before I got here, actually.”

“But ‘ow long ago was this?”

“It was about four years ago.”

“FOUR YEARS AGO?” Lafayette cried. He ran up to Usnavi and grabbed him by the shoulders.

“DO YOU KNOW THAT ALEXANDER DIED FOUR YEARS AGO???”

“Mon cherie,” Adrienne cut in quietly. “You are scaring ‘im.”

She wasn’t wrong. Lafayette was much taller than himself and was shaking his shoulders violently. But that wasn’t why he was scared. He was scared because the man was _right_.

Alexander had died four years ago, and he had come into the barrio at the exact same time. Alexander could speak French, and so could he, apparently. Alexander was friends with all these people, including the Schuyler sisters that came in the other day, and to Usnavi they all seemed _achingly_ familiar.

Lafayette released him quickly, taking a step back. “ _Je suis désolé, mon ami._ I did not mean to scare you.”

“It’s okay,” Usnavi replied, careful to reply in English. “It makes sense. I do look exactly like him.”

“It’s probably just the dead thing,” Hercules spoke up, shrugging. “John’s back to life all of a sudden, so we see conspiracies everywhere.”

“Yeah,” John added, nodding. “Like Peggy came in the other day and asked if Eliza was still alive, too.”

“Peggy is back in town?” Lafayette asked excitedly.

“She and Angelica came in the other day.”

“MON DIEU, THIS IS MOST BEST NEWS!” He cried, turning to Adrienne. “You get to meet the sisters I ‘ave told you about!”

“Oh, exciting!” Adrienne replied, beaming. She turned to John and Usnavi at the counter. “When will they be back?”

John turned to him. “Well, they said to just shoot a text whenever we were free, right?”

Usnavi nodded. Angelica and Peggy apparently lived not too far from them in a studio apartment and promised to visit more often now that they knew John was so close.

He turned back to Adrienne. “Are y’all free tonight? We could get together, hang out, just like old times.”

“Oui!” Lafayette cut in, clapping his hands together excitedly. “I cannot wait! It will be a reunion for all of us, and new friends for Adrienne!”

“And Usnavi,” Hercules added.

“And Usnavi!” Lafayette repeated cheerily, turning to his wife. “What do you say, mon amour? Are you feeling up to it?”

She nodded brightly. “I cannot wait!”

A night of staring at people blurred on the edge of his memory? Granted, they were nice people, and anyone who was friends with John had to be fun to be around, but still, trying to remember them all was a recipe for agony and frustration. Usnavi didn’t say anything, but if he did, it would’ve been something along the opposite of Adrienne’s lines.

~~~

“We do not repeat the story of tonight,” Lafayette groaned, lying upside-down on John’s couch.

“You got it. Hell, I won’t even _remember_ it,” John replied, his voice slightly muffled as he lay face-down on the carpet.

Usnavi sat on the armchair watching them, but his head was pounding too hard to say anything. And not in a my-eyebrow-is-acting-up-again way, but in the wholesome, undignified I-just-had-way-too-much-to-drink way.

Hercules was the only man who was still partly operational. He placed a glass of water down in front of Usnavi on the coffee table, making him jump out of his haze.

“Drink,” he ordered, patting Usnavi lightly on the back. “Believe me, you’ll thank me in the morning.”

“Uuuuuugh,” was Usnavi’s only response. He didn’t even want to _think_ about the morning. It would’ve been easy on any other day just to call in sick and sleep through the whole day, but tomorrow was Sonny’s official last day working at the bodega. And he had to be there for that — not because it was a momentous occasion, but because otherwise Sonny would throw a party or close up early or literally destroy the store.

John hadn’t forgotten about it, either.

“Can we just close the store tomorrow?” he whined, voice still muffled. “Sonny can have his last day the day after.”

“This kid is not gonna work longer than he has to just because you two drank too much,” Hercules replied shortly, placing another two water glasses in front of the bodies of his friends. Apparently Lafayette was used to this treatment because took the glass and downed it without another word.

“You haven’t changed much, huh, Herc?” John said, finally looking up as the man went to refill Lafayette’s glass. “You’re still the dad friend. I swear you drank as much as we did, though.”

“Maybe I can just hold my alcohol better.”

When he came back, he was holding some pills that he gave to each of them in turn.

“Mon ami, ‘ave I told you lately ‘ow much I love you?” Lafayette said dramatically, taking his and pulling Herc’s arm down to give him a sloppy kiss on the cheek.

Hercules escaped his grip, chuckling as he straightened up. “And drunk Lafayette, you’re still my favorite person in the entire world. But don’t forget about your wife.”

“I could never forget Adrienne,” Lafayette replied lightly.

There was a long stretch of silence.

Lafayette gasped and sat up, a feat that seemed nearly impossible from his position. “WHERE IS ADRIENNE?”

Maybe it was the alcohol, or the tiredness, or a combination of the two, but Usnavi found that so intensely hilarious that he burst out laughing.

And holy _fuck,_ it hurt, but then John joined in, and so did Hercules, to a lesser extent, so he couldn’t stop until he was out of breath, clutching his sides and gasping on the little armchair.

“She’s with the Schuyler sisters,” Hercules finally replied. “Peggy texted me and said they’re staying at their apartment for the night.”

There was another long silence, and Usnavi watched Lafayette screw up his face like that was some sort of secret message that he had to decode.

“...Oh,” he finally said in reply.

Which, naturally, made John crack up again, which made Usnavi crack up again. Which made Lafayette crack up again.

“Ow,” John finally complained after a while, clutching his head and wincing. Usnavi could relate.

“You used to be able to hold your alcohol, John,” Hercules said, picking up his water glass and handing it to him. “What happened?”

“Lying, pretentious son-of-a-bitch dad kept all the drinks to himself,” he muttered bitterly. “I haven’t had a real drink since… Yorktown.”

The group collectively winced.

“What happened at Yorktown?” Usnavi asked, but the instant he uttered the words, his eyebrow began to pound. He didn’t even know it was possible to have two headaches at once, but there he was.

“That was our last night with John before he moved back in with his dad–”

“That fuckwad of ass-wipe–”

“It was right after we won the war, so everyone was out celebrating. Imagine two nights’ worth of hardcore alcohol and partying nonstop,” Hercules continued, ignoring John, who was still muttering obscenities about his dad. “And I still don’t know why to this day, but that last night we decided our final drink to send him off would be–”

“Long island iced tea,” Usnavi interrupted him suddenly, and everyone went quiet. Even John ceased his cussing out of his dad and stared at him.

“...‘ow did you know that?” Lafayette asked slowly.

It had just come to him out of nowhere — less than a memory, but more than just a story — an _image_ of drinking all night and raising high one final glass. One final shot to someone he knew very well and was going to miss very dearly.

“I– um, I don’t know.”

The other three stared at him some more, and Usnavi felt just as confused as they looked. He’d just remembered something from a time he wasn’t there. It wasn’t a vivid memory; in fact, at first he just thought it was an image from a dream or something. But it was there. It was there, even though he hadn’t been.

But he had a feeling that he knew who had.

“Long island iced tea’s a popular farewell drink,” Hercules pointed out before he could open his mouth to ask. “He’s probably done the same thing with friends of his own.”

Before anyone could reply, he was up, taking their water glasses back to the kitchen and picking up some of their discarded bottles on the way there. “And I know if we’ve learned anything from Yorktown, or any other night, it’s that you’re gonna need sleep to operate tomorrow morning. It’s already three o’clock, so you’d better get started on that.

“We have to be up in _three hours,_ ” John groaned, falling face-down on the carpet again.

Lafayette flopped back down on the couch. “You do not mind if I crash right ‘ere, no?”

“Go right ahead,” John (probably) replied, still muffled by a mouthful of carpet.

“Nobody’s in any state to go back home,” Hercules agreed, coming back from the kitchen. “I’ll take the floor.”

“You don’t have to, we have a–”

“Only one of us can share the bed with you, and Usnavi needs it more than me. We’ll be fine out here, these pillows will work.”

Eventually, John agreed and managed to procure sleeping things for the two of them before turning off the lights and trudging to his bedroom. Usnavi followed wordlessly, climbing into bed at the same time as he did. There was no going to sleep anytime soon, though. Too many thoughts were going through his still-pounding head.

“John?” He whispered after a moment, staring up at the ceiling.

“Hm.”

“Alexander was at Yorktown too, wasn’t he?”

John turned his head sideways to look at him, and Usnavi stared back. There was a strange look in his eyes. He almost looked… lost.

“Yes, he was. It was the last time I ever saw him.”

There it was again — that searching look he had when Usnavi had first met him during the thunderstorm. And neither of them said anything, but Usnavi could tell they were thinking the same thing.

Not only did he have a memory that didn’t belong to him, he had a memory that belonged to Alexander. It was practically undeniable that the two of them were connected somehow, and that Usnavi might just be John’s dead best friend who wasn’t really dead.

John sighed quietly and rolled over so he was facing the other way.

“But Herc is right. Maybe you just went to another party. There’s lots of parties in New York.”

“You don’t think–”

“Goodnight, Usnavi.”

The hollowness in his tone shut Usnavi up. At first, he was confused, and a bit offended — did John not WANT it to be true? Did he not want his best friend back?

But then, he put himself in John’s shoes. This was a man who had been living half his life in a lie concocted by his own father. Now there was a big possibility — no matter who Usnavi was — that he was facing another giant secret concerning his best friend. He would have been lied to about basically everything, for his entire life. With no control over anything. That wasn’t a good feeling to have.

And what if it _wasn’t_ true? What if Usnavi’s and Alexander’s similarities, no matter how strange, were really one giant coincidence? That meant John would’ve had to go through losing his best friend, his other half, _three times_ in one lifetime: once, when he’d cut off communication with John when he believed John was dead; twice, when Alexander really died; and three times, when John built up hope that he was alive only to have it be torn down. Any way he put it, it was going to hurt him. A lot. It must’ve been easier for him to just believe that Alexander was truly and permanently gone.

Usnavi rolled over to stare at the wall. Maybe, instead of trying to relive painful ghosts of memories, it would be easier for Usnavi to believe that, too.

“‘Night, John."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Can I just put it out there that I love Adrienne de Lafayette and I think she is criminally overlooked that is all have a great day
> 
> Chapter 2: Party Time Part 2
> 
> THANK YOU FOR READING THIS SERIOUSLY IT MEANS MORE AND MORE TO ME EVERY TIME SOMEBODY READS THIS SH*T  
> And I'll go back and fix whatever formatting I did wrong eventually, but seriously lmk if there's an egregious error somewhere. Or non-egregious error. I'm all ears.
> 
> :)


	2. Usnavi

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Party Time Part 2 woop woop
> 
> Wherein the whole gang gets together - with, of course, some surprises.

Sonny was the sunniest person at the bodega the next morning by far. Usnavi could barely hear over the pounding in his head. John looked dead on his feet.

“You guys look like shit,” he commented cheerfully as they trudged in, only ten minutes late. Usnavi rolled his eyes and John visibly winced.

“We’re just so torn up about you leaving,” Usnavi replied sarcastically.

“I know, I know, you’re gonna miss me. So as a going-away present, I made you both this!”

He proudly held up two cups to them, which they took tentatively. It was a Nuclear Rainbow Meteor Shower slushie. Usnavi sighed in exasperation.

“Thanks.” John smiled politely, though it came out as more of a grimace. And then, to Usnavi’s shock, he downed it all in one gulp.

“Ha-ha!” Sonny cheered victoriously. “I know you’re gonna miss that, aren’t you?”

Usnavi looked at him incredulously. When his little cousin ran off, John shrugged and whispered, “it’s better than the hangover.”

Usnavi shook his head, stared down the cup, and sighed.

“Bottoms up.”

As momentous of an occasion as it was, the day passed rather uneventfully. The only real difference was Sonny dancing around and humming songs to himself, and John and Usnavi passing an aspirin bottle back and forth as the day went on.

Pete came in around noon bearing a celebratory ‘last lunch,’ consisting of watery microwaved mac-and-cheese, but left (more like fled) soon after, probably sensing Usnavi’s sour mood. Peggy came in shortly after to report on the status of the girls: apparently not much better than the boys were.

“With one exception,” she said with a glint in her eye, but wouldn’t elaborate. Usnavi didn’t have the mental capacity to try and decipher what she meant, so he just let it go.

As the final minutes ticked ever-closer, however, Usnavi’s headache began to fade, and John slowly seemed to come back to life as well. Sonny’s infectious cheerfulness began to catch on, and while they weren’t all exactly dancing around the bodega, the mood around the place definitely brightened.

“Y’know? This isn’t a half-bad day,” Usnavi said after letting Jose take four bags of rice with no charge (he was drunk, and Usnavi felt an inexplicable sense of sympathy for him at the moment). “Sonny’s gonna go back to school, all John’s friends know he’s alive again, and Pete hasn’t bothered me at all today–”

“ _Fight me,_ ‘Navi–”

“So why don’t we celebrate?” he finished, ignoring his younger cousin. “Let’s do something tonight. At my house. I’ll call Vanessa, you can bring all your friends again, it’ll be great. Like the party when you first came to the barrio, John! Another one for everyone else!”

“Sounds good!” he replied, grinning. “Just one suggestion?”

“Yeah?”

“No alcohol tonight?”

Usnavi had never agreed with someone more.

~~~

The remainder of Sonny’s last-ever shift at the bodega was spent coordinating “The Celebration of Everything except John’s Shitbag of a Dad” — as Sonny so proudly named it — and not a whole lot of actual working.

When the time finally came, Sonny launched what he was holding into the air — which happened to be a couple dozen sugar packets he had been restocking — and shouted “FREEDOM!” so loud that a few people outside peeked in to see what the commotion was about.

Of course, Usnavi made him clean up the giant mess of sugar packets that were now all over the floor. But after that, he was home free, and John and Usnavi decided to close up shop early to set up the house for the celebration.

The first thing he did as the three of them headed back to his apartment was text Vanessa, who answered almost immediately.

 **Vanessa**  
_Sent:_ Yooooo  
_Received:_ Hey  
_Sent:_ Doin nything 2nite? Were having a celebration of evrything xept john’s shitbag of a dad and ur nvited  
_Sent:_ Yes thats the name  
_Received:_ lool who else is gonna be there?  
_Sent:_ All johns friends who kno hes not ded now  
_Sent:_ & sonny bc its his last day @ bodega  
_Sent:_ Dani  & carla r welcome 2  
_Received:_ Kk I’ll ask them  
_Received:_ Should I bring food?  
_Sent:_ No thx  
_Received:_ I’ll just take over some wine  
_Sent:_ NO NO ALCOHOL NO  
_Received:_ ???  
_Sent:_ long story  
_Received:_ oo I wanna hear this  
_Received:_ ...but I’ll wait til I get there because your texting physically hurts me  
_Sent:_ :’)

The most pressing matter of preparing the house was moving all the boxes of Abuela Claudia’s stuff that he hadn’t bothered to clean up yet. In the end, they decided to shove it all into Usnavi’s room — where it would probably stay for another five years — and of course, since Sonny insisted that he was officially done with manual labor for the rest of the summer, it was up to Usnavi and John to move it all while he tidied up the couch (i.e., took a nap).

“Jesus _Christ,_ ” John grunted, lifting up one box and nearly falling on his face. “Did Abuela Claudia collect bricks or something?”

“She loved her books,” Usnavi replied shortly, struggling to hold up a box of his own.

Sonny fluffed up a pillow and watched them amusedly.

The first ones to arrive were Kevin and Camila Rosario bearing steaming plates full of food and, beyond that, some news.

“Nina is doing great! Apparently her friends are so glad she decided to go back that they’ve taken care of a lot of her non-college expenses,” Kevin explained, beaming.

“And in case anyone was wondering,” Camila added, “She and Benny are back together. He’s staying there ‘til Thanksgiving break and then flying back.”

“That’s great!” John cheered. “All the more reason to celebrate!”

Kevin grunted but didn’t say anything else.

Lafayette and Adrienne arrived shortly after, the latter looking very much perkier than the former. She immediately struck up a conversation with Camila while Lafayette watched her from the couch.

“ _‘Ow_ can she be so bright?” He wondered aloud. “Peggy told me they were — ‘ow you say? Drinking the fish?”

“Drinking like fish?” John suggested.

“Oui, that. But still she glows!” He exclaimed miserably. “ ‘Ow is that fair?”

“Nothing’s fair in love and war, Lafayette,” Hercules Mulligan responded sagely from the armchair.

“HOLY FUCKING SHIT!” Usnavi half-screamed, scrambling to his feet and staring at the man.

He simply chuckled. “Hey, man. Great party you got here. I _love_ these little tortilla thingies.”

“Can you _stop_ sneaking in like that? One of these days it’s actually gonna kill me.”

“It’s gonna kill me, too, from laughing so hard,” John cut in, smirking.

Angelica and Peggy came in a couple of minutes later. Peggy made a beeline for the food while Angelica gave Adrienne a warm greeting before joining the men in the living room.

“Hey, guys.” She glanced at Usnavi. “Hey, not-Alexander.”

“Hello, not-Peggy,” he retaliated.

She gave him that same look, like she was issuing a challenge, and this time he was determined to not look away.

She broke eye contact first to tuck a lock of hair behind her ear before turning smoothly to John. “Congratulations. Y’know, on not having a shitbag of a dad anymore. I’m really glad we’re having such a nice party for you.”

“Thanks. You’re right, it _is_ a real nice party. I think some thanks are in order for the man of the house.” He gestured to Usnavi, who smirked and nodded.

Angelica cocked her hip and looked him up and down. “Yes indeed. Well, I’ll keep an eye out for him,” she said lightly before sauntering off.

Usnavi watched her go, feeling more than slightly embarrassed.

“Don’t worry,” Herc chuckled, patting his shoulder comfortingly. “She does that to all of us. Welcome to the club.”

There was a knock on the front door before he could reply — all the better, really, since there was no coming back from that one, anyway.

“That must be Vanessa,” he said abruptly, smiling. “Hold on, I’ll get it!” He nearly ran to the door and opened it wide — and then looked up.

A man who was definitely not Vanessa looked down at him with a small smile on his face. Usnavi didn’t need another person’s memories to recognize the tall build and familiar features.

“Uh… hi, Mr. Washington?” It came out sounding more like a question, and he cleared his throat quickly. “Did you… can I help you?”

George Washington’s smile grew wider and he stuck a hand out to shake, which Usnavi took quickly. “Hello there, son. I’m sorry to just show up uninvited, but I received word that John Laurens was here, and I’ve come to see him in person.”

“Oh… um, right, of course! C’mon in.” Usnavi, quite frankly, was baffled. It wasn’t every day that the former President of the United States just showed up at his doorstep. “John? Um… the President’s here to see you.”

“MONSIEUR WASHINGTOOOOOOON!” came a cry. It wasn’t John who appeared first. Instead Lafayette suddenly got up from the couch, screeched, ran over to the man, tripped on the carpet, and fell flat on his face in front of him.

George helped him up, chuckling as Lafayette brushed himself off and wrapped him in a tight hug.

“Lafayette! Hello, it’s been a while, hasn’t it?”

“Too long,” the Frenchman agreed.

Usnavi stood by awkwardly as John greeted him next, giving him a less affectionate but still warm hug. “Good to see ya again, sir.”

“Good to see you as well — though I guess this is a reunion stranger than most, huh?”

“Did YOU hear ‘e was dead, too?” asked Lafayette.

“No, I got the less severe version where he moved to England with his wife and kids. I guess that part’s a lie, too, huh?”

“Every damn bit of it,” John muttered bitterly.

“Ah, well, what’s done is done, I suppose. At least everyone’s here together now– Oh! Mr. and Mrs. Rosario, hi! How are you? How’s the daughter?”

George moved over to catch up with his former neighbors while Usnavi looked on, still confused.

The older Washington sibling had come from the barrio, same as Benny had, but he’d left long before Usnavi showed up. And sure, his face was recognizable by every citizen in America, but his degree of familiarity to Usnavi was _absurd._ And Usnavi didn’t even have to ask why he might’ve seemed so familiar, or who might’ve known him from a life before. He already knew.

“You okay, cuz?” Sonny asked him, putting a hand on his arm.

Usnavi jumped and looked down at him — apparently he’d been staring off into space with a hand on his forehead.

“I– uh, yeah, I’m fine. Just need some water.” He gave his cousin a half-nod and headed over to the kitchen.

Adrienne was already there, looking down at her own water glass as if deep in thought. She jumped as Usnavi grabbed a cup from the cabinet.

“Oh, _je suis désolé,_ Usnavi! I ‘ave made my own drink. I ‘ope you do not mind, for I was not… well.”

At the moment, Adrienne was the only person he knew that didn’t make him feel like he was being pulled apart by two separate lives; she was a perfectly whole, uncomplicated acquaintance. He gave her a warm smile. “Don’t worry ‘bout it. But what’s wrong? Do you need an Advil or something?” He lowered his voice conspiratorially. "Did you guys have too much to drink, too?"

She laughed her breathy laugh. “No, non, I am fine. In actual I did not drink last night. It is simply… um…’ she trailed off, tapping her glass pensively. “Today is the celebration of everything, no?”

“Except for John’s shitbag of a dad,” Usnavi corrected. Adrienne giggled again.

“Right. Except for ‘im. Well, then… you do not mind if I add more celebration?”

“‘Course not! Why, do you have more that’s worth celebrating?”

“Yes, I do, I think so. I just ‘ave to tell… the news. Will you come with me back to the staying room?”

“Sure. Lemme just...” he downed his water quickly — which didn’t do much for his headache, by the way — “...okay, let’s go.”

Reemerging side-by-side with Adrienne, he discovered that in his absence both Pete and Vanessa had arrived. The former was talking quietly to Sonny and the latter was introducing herself to George Washington.

“Oh, Usnavi, hi!” she called, turning and noticing him. She bid George a ‘talk to you later’ and walked over to the two of them.

“All John’s friends are so nice. And who’s this?”

“Adrienne Noailles de Lafayette,” she beamed, holding out a hand to shake. “It is nice to meet you. I am the wife of the man Lafayette.”

“Vanessa Garcia,” she replied. “Nice to meet you, too.”

“Adrienne was just gonna… wait, what were we doing again?”

“I ‘ave an announcement, if you do not mind?”

Oh, right. Okay, go ahead.”

She gave a nervous, breathy chuckle and took a step forward. “Everyone?” she called out tentatively. Nobody seemed to hear her, unfortunately, except for Angelica who was walking past.

“HEY!”

Everyone fell silent at the sound of the voice — two voices, actually. Vanessa and Angelica had called out at the same time. They stared at each other, looking quite bewildered that the other had spoken.

Adrienne didn’t notice, and took advantage of the attention. “Merci beaucoup, Angelica and Vanessa. Um — so, since this is the Celebration of Everything except John’s Shitbag of a Dad–”

John whooped, holding a tortilla chip in the air.

“I ‘ave…” She glanced at Angelica, who beamed and nodded.

“I ‘ave something to say to my ‘usband.”

“Oui?” Lafayette inquired, standing up from the couch and looking at her quizically.

She took a deep breath and did another one of her nervous laughs. “ _Lafayette, je suis enceinte._ ”

Usnavi gasped and smiled, and Lafayette literally clambered over the couch to grab her hands.

“ _Vous ne plaisantez pas?_ ” he breathed.

“ _Non,_ ” she half-said, half-laughed.

Lafayette squealed, picking her up by the waist and twirling her around “THIS IS MOST BEST NEWS!” He cried after putting her down and planting a kiss on her lips. She laughed her airy, breathless laugh and hugged him tightly.

“And for the rest of us who don’t speak French…” prompted Peggy, barely suppressing a grin of her own. Adrienne finally let her husband go to look at all the faces around the room, each with the same curious smile.

“Oh,” she said. “I am pregnant.”

The room erupted into cheers and laughter as everyone rushed forward to congratulate the glowing couple. Usnavi’s head was swimming with joyous noise and movement and he beamed, having given his own congratulations enthusiastically.

Then there was a face.

He stumbled backward in shock. Nobody else seemed to notice him; fortunately, they were all preoccupied with Adrienne and a now-crying Lafayette.

The face flashed in his mind’s eye again, and he closed his eyes and gripped the couch to try and capture it.

“I’m pregnant.” The words echoed in his ears, but they weren’t Adrienne’s. They belonged to a different voice — a steadier one; it was melodic and light and he _knew_ that voice.

The face flashed again — shining eyes, rosy cheeks, pale skin and a brilliant smile. Her bone structure was reminiscent of the two sisters at the party. He knew that woman — the woman with the kind face and long, straight dark hair—

_Eliza._

As soon as the name came to him, his head practically exploded. A million images and colors rushed to his mind, like a movie reel set at ten times the speed. There was a little child sleeping in his arms. There was Eliza again, radiant in a white dress. There was a flash of red. Then two, and then three. There was a cannon blowing a cloud of black smoke and a boom that reverberated deep in his chest. There was a crack and a whoosh of rain and wind and the horrible crunch of weight on bone and the creak of a house being torn at the seams–

There was a hand on his shoulder. He opened his eyes, turned around and saw the smiling face and green eyes, bright and full of life and nearly breathtakingly handsome in a dark navy uniform. Under the freckles there was color on his cheeks — the kind of vivid color that can only be held at the peak of youth. There were shining lights around them; they were in a massive room filled with candles.

“Hey, “ the man said and Usnavi blinked. The lights faded, the massive room dissolved into his little apartment.

_“Hey.”_

He blinked a couple more times and the shining face faded, the eyes contorting into a look of concern.

“Hey. Hey! Usnavi. Are you okay?”

Now it was just John, staring at him with alarm on his face. Heart pounding, he looked around at the present. He didn’t know how long he’d been out of it, but everyone was still turned toward Adrienne, chatting obliviously. Besides John, the only one who seemed to notice him was George, who glanced at him curiously but quickly gave a small smile and turned back.

“Usnavi. _Look at me._ Focus here. Sonny, could you go get him some water or something?”

Unbeknownst to him, Sonny was there, too. His younger cousin gave him a worried glance before shuffling off, probably to obey John’s orders. Words were still foggy in his head, but John tilted his face up to stare intently into his eyes and slowly he started to catch his breath.

“Can you hear me?”

A few more deep breaths had him grounded in the present. “Yeah,” he finally managed. John sighed in relief and dropped the hand from his face.

“Good. That’s good. Are you okay? What happened?”

He swallowed, looking away. The pain in his eyebrow was gone, but his hands were still shaking. His heart thudded madly in his chest.

“Yeah, I’m fine. I — I just need a minute.”

He squirmed out of John’s grip, ignoring his protests, and walked as fast as he could to his room before shutting the door behind him.

~~~

There was nobody he needed to explain to him what he was seeing. Whose memories he had. He lay on his bed, taking deep breaths to try and slow his still-racing heart. He was afraid to close his eyes, afraid of what he might see, afraid to remember.

He was afraid to know why he saw them.

He thought he knew the answer — no, it was more than that. There was something deep in his mind, pulling at his heart — it was a _conviction_ that he was seeing those memories because they belonged to him.

But how could they?

Abuela Claudia told him he was Usnavi de la Vega. He’d lived in the Heights all his life with his parents. He was a man with blood from the Dominican Republic, named after the American ship they’d passed on their way home. That’s what he knew. That’s everything she told him. That’s who he was.

Suddenly there was another memory — not a new one, but one from a few weeks ago — a memory of Benny, twisting his hands together inside a dark confession booth at Abuela Claudia’s funeral.

_“If you don’t think that’s true, then that’s okay.”_

A reference to his story, to the past Abuela Claudia had given to him. A reference to every single detail of the life that he had no choice but to accept as his own. A possibility that this newfound conviction — that these old memories were _his_ — might be true.

But that meant that Abuela Claudia had kept that from him. It meant she let him live in the dark for all that time. Benny had told him, that day, that whatever she did, she did to keep him safe. But _this_ — the not knowing, the suffering, the internal battle being waged in his head at all times — how was this _safe?_

Shakily, he got to his knees, staring up at the ceiling.

“Who am I, Abuela Claudia? Who am I really?” he whispered.

Naturally there was no response. He gazed upward, then around the room, searching for an answer, a sign, anything, and then he saw a shadow. It was the streetlight shining through his curtains and casting a shadow on the mound of boxes full of her stuff. He made his way over to it, pulling a box down from the top and carefully opening it. It was one of the heavy book boxes full of old, yellowed photo albums. Usnavi lifted the first one off the pile carefully, tracing a finger over the film of dust on the cover.

It was filled with pictures of Nina from when she was a baby all the way to a folder with pictures of her going off to college. He flipped through them briefly, noting the absence of anyone else but Nina, her parents, and occasionally her brother in the background. He set it aside slowly and dug back into the box.

There were albums upon albums in there, of everything and everyone. There was three-year-old Sonny, sitting in a giant metal bucket and laughing hysterically. There was the Salon Unisex on opening day, with a teenaged Carla pretending to hold up the sign. There were pictures of pigeons and of people he didn’t know by name. There were clippings of newspapers and old lottery tickets with sections highlighted in faded marker.

There was a picture of an infant, less than a year old. The caption read ‘Usnavi de la Vega, 1987, Halloween.’ The kid was wearing a fuzzy giraffe onesie and sleeping soundly in Abuela Claudia’s arms. His parents were apparently nowhere to be seen in any of the pictures — not one face jumped out at him like the faces on John’s picture wall had. The stories in these albums seemed entirely new to him.

And the baby — as preposterous as it sounded out loud, a little voice in his head insisted that _that baby could be anyone._ It didn’t resemble him in any way, and how could it? It was an infant.

Perhaps there were more pictures of him as a kid — more pictures that could prove that he grew up in the barrio. Abuela had all her pictures of Nina in one album; maybe all the pictures of he and his parents were in a separate one, too.

He sifted through the boxes again, searching for any sign of his or his parents’ names. Suddenly, though, a book caught his eye.

It wasn’t another photo album, but a hard-covered book, navy-blue and thick with pages. The title read “Free Thoughts on the Proceedings of the Continental Congress”. Usnavi pulled it out, careful not to crush the other books and albums strewn out around him, and opened it up.

The cover sheet was slowly coming off and curled at the corner when it was opened. As he read the intro on the front page, he absentmindedly pulled at the loose corner, slowly pulling the paper free.

A folder slid onto his lap.

He jumped, dropping the book with a thud. It had slid out from behind the page he pulled free; in fact, it was so big he was surprised he hadn’t noticed it beforehand.

It was one of those manila file folders people use to store documents in and he picked it up carefully, turning it over in his hands. The front cover, upon further inspection, had his name on it, printed in red block letters under the word Confidential.

He opened it slowly, half-expecting it to explode or something. Thankfully only a thin film of dust blew up at his face when he exhaled.

The only thing in the envelope was a single letter addressed to him.

It was in Abuela Claudia’s handwriting.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Can't even have a Celebration of Everything Except John's Shitbag of a Dad without something going wrong smh
> 
> Chapter 3 Sneak Peak:  
> Dear Usnavi,
> 
> That's it. That's all you get. 'Cuz that's all I have lol


	3. Abuela Claudia/Usnavi

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Abuela Claudia's letter might clear a couple of things up for our confused boi

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Congratulations to everyone graduating high school or college (and also everyone who just completed another year of school that's also a great accomplishment)!  
> Congratulations to everyone also doing shit outside of school with a club or whatever and you just completed another year of it!  
> Congratulations to everyone celebrating Pride month with Pride!  
> Congratulations to anyone that doesn't otherwise receive congratulations based on the preceding conditions because you've made it this far in life!  
> And congratulations to me for finally posting a damn chapter. Here's to all of you.

_My Dearest Usnavi,_

_If you are finding this letter now it means that you are beginning to have doubts about your past, and about where you really came from. Perhaps you’ve already figured out the real truth and have come seeking confirmation. In any case, I am truly, truly sorry that I’ve had to lie to you all these years. Please believe me, if there’s anything at all that I regret about my job, it’s causing all that pain and confusion you felt when I couldn’t tell you about your own past. But it was my job. Now that the danger has (presumably) passed, there’s no point in hiding it from you now, so here it goes. I can’t bear to lie to you any longer._

_You are, in fact, not who I said you are. You were in danger, Usnavi. There was a man who sought to murder you for whatever reason he managed to conceive, back before you remember. The first time he kidnapped you, the agency I work for (who shall continue to go unnamed, should this letter fall into other hands) got you out by faking your death. They put you under and installed neurotransmitters in your brain to block memories of the life you had forgotten, so that you would be safe in your new home here. That’s why you had to take those blue pills. That’s why, unless you haven’t noticed it, there’s a tiny scar on the top of your head._

_That’s why you came here, to the Washington Heights Project, to be under my care. I was more than just your Abuela, Usnavi, though in any other circumstance I would have been more than content with just that role. In any case, I was, in fact, your undercover social agent. I was in charge of keeping you safe from whatever dangers might enter the sanctuary. One such threat presented itself a few days ago, a day which I’m sure you’ll remember as you read. There was a man who stepped into the bodega and called you by a name that I’m sure you haven’t forgotten. I won’t elaborate on the exact steps that we have taken since then, again for the sake of other eyes that might discover this paper, but this event led to me having to remove you from the sanctuary, which no longer protected you._

_That’s why I promised you a trip to Puerto Plata with our lottery money. If I had a choice, I would’ve left you there in the barrio, with all the friends you’ve made who love you so much. I knew that taking you to the Dominican Republic wouldn’t do anything for your lack of memory, but it was the only thing I could do to keep you safe._

_Then things went wrong. The man out to murder you somehow found out your identity and disguised himself as an agent to get into the barrio with my team. He threatened to bring out his own men to my apartment and get your flight information out of me so that they can bring you down on that plane. Which reminds me: I am sure my reinforcements will have taken proper action once I’m gone, but in the case that you receive this letter before that happens, you cannot get on that plane, Usnavi. No matter what I do right now, that information is still unsecured and they can still find it. There are so many of us here that have sacrificed ourselves for you, and our only wish is that our actions not be in vain._

_Side note: one of these people who have already passed on claims to know you from before you were kidnapped. Maria Reynolds was one of my bravest agents, and she, too, has given her life so that you remain protected. She wants you to know that she forgives you for everything and not to blame yourself. She says that now that she’s with Eliza again, nothing can ever make her unhappy. Those were the last words off her lips, and though I don’t know what all of them mean, I owe it to her to pass them on to you._

_And I am sorry again, for if you read this letter, then I have already taken my next plan of action. Simply take peace in the fact that my death was necessary. It’s the only thing I can do to keep you safe._

_Don’t feel sad or guilty that I or Maria or anyone else had to face this end. None of this is, or ever will be, the fault of any person still living. For if this were the only way to protect you, to ensure you can go on living and being yourself, I’d do it a thousand times again, Usnavi. I truly and deeply love you. You’ve become far, far more than just my case over these four years. You’ve managed to work your way into the heart of everyone who lives here, and you’ve changed all our lives for the better. I’m going to miss you terribly when I go, but don’t worry. It won’t hurt me. I’ll be watching over you and everyone else in this barrio from above._

_No matter where you go, you can manage to make it your home. I have no doubt that you’ll be fine on your own (provided, again, that you don’t get on that plane)._

_Que salgas adelante con paciencia y fe. Cree en ti mismo. No puedo esperar para ver lo que harás con este mundo._

_Amor para siempre,_  
Abuela Claudia

_P.S.: Just in case someone else reads this letter, I cannot disclose who you were in your past life. But I don’t need to. You know who you are._

 

"Alexander Hamilton," he said aloud, folding the letter and looking back up at the room. Instantly, it clicked. He stood up, placing the letter on the bed.

“I am Alexander Hamilton.”

~~~

Saying the words aloud was like opening his eyes for the first time. He looked down at his hands, his shoes, all the albums strewn about on the ground. He lifted a finger to the top of his head and — yes, there it was — the little scar Abuela Claudia had mentioned.

He looked back down at the letter, and then to the case file next to it. The paper bent in a way that indicated that it used to hold a lot more information than a single letter, though now it was completely empty. He closed it and put it carefully back inside the book. Any information that could’ve been in there wasn’t anything he couldn’t find out. It was his life. They were his memories. He picked up the letter again and slid it carefully under his pillow, but not before stopping to smile once again at Abuela Claudia’s looping script. She never wrote much more than her name when she was alive, but he could still tell it was hers a mile away.

_I am Alexander Hamilton._ The statement echoed over and over in his head and he was astounded at how certain they felt. He couldn’t imagine that he’d lived four entire years not knowing that — not knowing who he was. Despite the pounding in his forehead, which beat in rhythm with this mantra, he smiled.

He was halfway done picking up the albums when the next thought struck.

_What the fuck am I doing in here? My friends are outside. My friends, who I haven’t seen in four years._

He stood up abruptly and pulled open his door, nearly dancing in anticipation to announce his return. He looked up at the hall.

Then he stopped in his tracks.

Standing there, hand poised to knock on his door, was John.

The man who he’d befriended years ago in New York en route to training with the Army. The man who he’d fought side-by-side with, and talked with, and laughed with, and spent every moment of his formative years with. The man he’d grown to see as the kindest, bravest, funniest, most incredibly beautiful man on Earth. The man who saw him as so much more than an orphan immigrant from the middle of nowhere. The man who had managed to make him feel things that he swore he’d never, ever let himself feel again after losing everything as a child in the Caribbean. The man who took a piece of his heart with him when he was shot and killed in a training accident.

Holy shit, it was _John._

They stared at each other for quite a while, each overwhelmed by their own thoughts. Finally, John spoke.

“Are you…?”

His voice was barely a whisper, and by the look in his eyes, he was asking the same question he had been afraid to ask every day since they’d met.

All he could do was nod, as his breath was still caught in his throat. It was all he needed to do, though, because John let out a strangled sort of sigh and then he was being hugged so tightly that he couldn’t think about anything else except breathing.

“Alexander,” John whispered, breath cool on his neck. _God,_ how he missed him saying that name.

The words he finally found were, of course, the only thing on his mind.

“John Laurens.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you read through the entire series again (pls don't, just take my word for it) you'll find that Alexander is the first word to ever utter the word Hamilton. Nobody ever told him his last name. He just knew.
> 
> Oh and I ALWAYS forget to translate stuff. Here's that last part of Abuela Claudia's letter, for anyone that didn't already translate it: may you go forth with patience and faith. Believe in yourself. I can't wait to see what you do with this world. Love forever, Abuela Claudia
> 
> Chapter 4 Sneak Peek:  
> Pete doesn't know what the fuck is going on again


	4. Graffiti Pete

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pete doesn't know what the fuck is going on.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I prOMISE I'm not abandoning this story! I say that a lot but I fear one day soon I'm gonna stop posting for a looong while. Life's been a whirlwind ever since summer started. Like I just got back from vacation yesterday and now I gotta do all my shopping stuff for college, which I leave for in 7!!! days!!! LIFE
> 
> Anyway pls enjoy :)

Usnavi and John walked out side-by-side, bearing identical grins. As per usual, Pete had no idea what the fuck was going on.

But that was nothing new; he’d been feeling like that all night. It started when he had been invited to this party by Sonny, who had called it the Celebration of Everything except John’s Shitbag of a Dad (not that he knew what John’s shitbag of a dad did, but whatever). He expected it to be a get-together of the usuals around the De la Vega household, but when he got there he recognized nobody except for the former President of the United States sitting on the couch and eating a taquito.

And it only got weirder from there.

“Who are all these people?” Pete asked Sonny after being greeted by Vanessa and an absolutely giant freaking man who walked past him on the way in.

“They’re all John’s friends. They’re all celebrating the fact that he’s actually not dead.”

That was one mystery solved, and about twelve more created. Sonny, much to Pete’s vexation, declined to give any more context than that. He said he enjoyed the look on Pete’s face too much.

It was a look he would have a lot in the coming hours. Gradually he learned that John’s shitbag of a dad was the cause of John’s not-death, which didn’t answer that many of his questions, but he took what he could get.

And then suddenly Vanessa and another woman in a pink dress yelled “HEY” at the exact same time. They appeared to have some sort of stare-down until the french lady — there was a french lady and a french man at the party, he’d come to learn — spoke up.

“Merci beaucoup, Angelica et Vanessa.”

_Angelica,_ recited Pete, putting a name to the woman’s sharp features.

French lady went on to tell everyone she had an announcement for her husband, at which point the french man stood up to face her. They seemed to have a very happy exchange in French before the man nearly knocked over the couch to pick her up and spin her around.

“THIS IS MOST BEST NEWS!” he cried, kissing her and almost happy-crying. Pete glanced at Sonny in confusion, who to his relief didn’t seem to know what the fuck was going on, either. That is, until a girl who couldn’t be much older than him prompted them to tell the news in English and the french woman turned to them all and announced that she was pregnant.

Everyone erupted into cheers and Pete took the moment of chaos to get his shit together. _Here’s what I know,_ he thought. _John’s dad is a shitbag. John is not dead, french lady is pregnant, and french man is crying. Also John was friends with the president, who—_

He stopped mid-thought as Usnavi suddenly stumbled backward, blinking rapidly. Nobody else seemed to notice him, as they were all congratulating the french couple (including Sonny, who had somehow made friends with them within mere minutes of their arrival).

And then Usnavi shut his eyes tight, clutching the couch as if it were a lifeline. Pete grew concerned for a moment, debating on whether or not to go help him, but before he could go, John and Sonny noticed and beat him to it. They had an exchange and Usnavi didn’t look well at all — they must’ve known, too, because Sonny rushed off somewhere. He and John had a short exchange before Usnavi shook his head and fled down the hall.

George Washington seemed to know something about it. Well, really, it was probably in his job description to know everything about everything, anyway. But that was besides the point. He grabbed John by the arm to stop him from following Usnavi and said something Pete couldn’t quite catch. John just looked at him, confused, before realization slowly dawned on his face. He stared at Mr. Washington for a long while, his look reminiscent of someone that had just been told that his dog died, and then raced down the hall after Usnavi.

And once again, Pete had no idea what the fuck was going on.

“Where’s Usnavi?” asked Sonny, glass of water in hand. Pete shrugged, watching Washington pull the giant man to the side and telling him something in low tones. By the secretive way they were talking, he felt like this was something that he shouldn’t reveal that he witnessed. Which was fine, because he had no idea what he _had_ witnessed, anyway.

He shrugged instead. “Bathroom, maybe?”

Sonny looked around for another moment, then nodded slowly. “John’s probably went with him. He can take care of him.”

“Why, what happened?”

“I dunno. One of his little head things again,” replied Sonny. “He’ll be fine.”

Pete nodded. Sonny seemed to be saying the words more for himself than anything else. “I’m sure he is.”

If Pete was sure about anything, it was that Usnavi _wasn’t_ fine — and neither was John, for that matter. But Sonny looked like he needed the reassurance more. And besides, he was right: The two could take care of themselves. If not, the President was in the room, too. He could probably order people’s issues to go away and they would obey.

They stood in silence for a moment longer before Sonny turned to him again. “You look like you’re enjoying yourself,” he continued, grinning.

Pete laughed and poked his hat off-center. Sonny punched him in the gut before fixing it. He reached out to take Pete’s hand, then stopped mid-way and turned away.

Technically, at this party they weren’t supposed to look like a couple, per orders of Usnavi. He’d warned Sonny that there were some people there that grew up in a different generation and hadn’t quite gotten used to non-traditional mannerisms yet (which was Usnavi’s roundabout way of saying Kevin Rosario wasn’t exactly the most accepting person), to which Sonny had said “well, then, they’re gonna have to learn to adapt.” But Pete, upon learning about it, refused to go unless Sonny agreed to Usnavi’s terms. He knew how quickly someone could ruin your life if they held that sort of stuff against you. Even if they seemed friendly.

Which meant he couldn’t attach himself to Sonny’s side the whole time, or hold his hand, or irritate him while he talked to other people. And since those were the only things Pete really knew how to do at these kinds of adult gatherings, he was sort of screwed.

“Does it really look like I’m having fun?” he asked.

“Hell nah, man, you look miserable,” replied Sonny.

“Gee. Thanks.”

“Just go talk to someone! Introduce yourself! It’s not that hard.”

It _was_ that hard. High school parties were easy because everyone sort of knew everyone already. But striking up a conversation with a stranger was hard enough, never mind trying to do it while also convincing them you weren’t out to kill them or sell them drugs.

“C’mon,” Sonny continued, grabbing him by the wrist. “I’ll help you.”

He was dragged over to the girl in the yellow sweatshirt he’d noticed earlier that seemed to be the closest one to their age. She was standing over the chip bowl and pulling her curly hair into a bun.

“Pete, this is Peggy. Peggy, Pete. Discuss.”

“Um, hello,” Pete started, unsure of what to say.

Peggy looked him up and down, grinned, and turned to Sonny. “You brought your drug dealer to the party? How’s your cousin feel about that?”

She wasn’t one for silent judgement, he had to give her that.

“He’s not my drug dealer—” Sonny started indignantly, but Peggy just laughed.

“I’m kidding, dude. It’s nice to finally meet the famous Pete. Usnavi’s told me some stuff about you.”

Pete knew that Usnavi hadn’t given her the nice version of the story. “Well, ignore what he said. He don’t like me much.”

“Actually, he said a lot of good things. Aren’t you the artist?”

Well, that was new. Usnavi usually preferred the word ‘vandal’ when referring to him.

“I- uh, yeah, I guess so. I mean, I paint stuff on walls.”

“You paint _nice_ stuff on walls. Usnavi showed me your mural on his bodega grate, it’s his lock screen and everything. It’s great. If you painted it on a canvas I bet you could’ve snuck it into one of those snobby galleries upstate, and they wouldn’t notice. Well, you’d have to title it “Ghetto Fabulous” or something, so they’d dig the spray paint aesthetic… but anyway, yeah. That guy treats your mural like an ancient artifact. Hey, Usnavi—” she called looking around, before finally noticing his absence.

“Yo, where’s Usnavi?” she asked aloud, earning the attention of nearly everyone in the room. Pete scanned the room and noticed John hadn’t come back, either.

“He stepped out for a bit,” Washington replied lightly, before turning back to the french man.

“Stepped out where?” wondered Peggy, but conversations had continued as normal and Pete was the only one listening to her. He shrugged.

“I dunno. I remember seeing him go down that hall?”

He gestured down the hall to where the two had fled, and as if on cue, John and Usnavi emerged, grinning like idiots. Which brings us back to Pete gaping at them as they practically strolled into the room.

“Hey!” called John, getting everyone’s attention again.

Behind him, he heard Peggy murmur “ _Oh Jesus fuck they just hooked up, didn’t they_ ” and Sonny choke back laughter.

John didn’t say anything of that sort. Instead, he gestured grandly to Usnavi and said, “guess who else is not dead?”

And once again, Pete had no idea what the fuck was going on.

“I KNEW IT!” The french man screeched first. “DID I NOT TELL YOU?”

“Holy crap,” Peggy breathed from behind them, before squeezing her way through to go talk to them. Reactions were more or less the same with all of John’s friends, and as Pete watched they all crowded Usnavi and hugged him like he, too, was pregnant.

“THIS IS MOST SECOND BEST NEWS!” The frenchman declared, earning a laugh from Usnavi.

“Thanks, Laf.”

“I thought John was the one who wasn’t dead?” Pete asked Sonny, who looked just as confused as he was.

“Me, too.”

They continued to watch the exchange before Vanessa finally yelled “okay, can someone explain what the FUCK is going on?”

Pete felt like applauding her for such a succinct verbalization of what they were all thinking.

“Oh,” Usnavi replied, twisting his hands together rather sheepishly. “Right. Well, it’s kind of a long story—”

“If I may?” Washington cut in.

Usnavi looked a little startled at it, but quickly nodded. Washington smiled at him and turned to face Vanessa.

“You know this man as Usnavi de la Vega, correct?”

“Y-yeah, that’s Usnavi,” she replied, confused.

“Well, to you, that’s his name. To them—” he gestured to all of John’s friends— “this man is my former Secretary of the Treasury who was kidnapped and killed by political adversaries.”

Pete’s head was going to explode.

“Treasury of... what?” sputtered Vanessa.

Usnavi stepped forward. “It sounds complicated, I know. But you know how I didn’t live in the barrio up until four years ago?”

“Yeah?”

“That’s where I was. That’s who I was.”

“But wait, hold up,” Sonny interjected. “Abuela Claudia told us you just lived in the outer city with your parents. Tia and tio De la Vega, we knew them! And when they died, you moved in to take over their bodega.”

“That was the story she told you to protect my identity,” replied Usnavi, grinning.

“What— why would she have to protect your identity?”

Washington cleared his throat. “The man you know as Usnavi — and for his safety we will continue to REFER to as Usnavi —” Washington gave John’s side of the room a pointed glance, and they all nodded— “is in a protection program because there’s still a man out there who plans to hunt him down and kill him,” he explained.

_Boom._ There went Pete’s head.

“Wait... so Usnavi isn't really Usnavi? That was all made up?” Vanessa asked slowly.

“His backstory was fabricated, yes, but the man you’ve know for four years is still here. And he’s staying here. He’s just… all revealed now. Agent Claudia did an excellent job of keeping him safe up until this point.”

“Agent Claudia,” repeated Sonny dumbly.

Pete looked up and — yes, if he squinted hard enough, he could see exploded chunks of his brain splattering the ceiling.

“Usnavi’s social agent. Yes, I know it’s a lot to wrap your head around. But don’t worry, your Abuela Claudia was always your abuela. She just had a job on the side.”

“Which was to keep Usnavi safe from this man who’s out to kill him,” Vanessa finished. She seemed to be catching on much faster than the rest of them. Either that, or she was just seeing if the words made sense out loud. They didn't.

“...essentially, yes,” Washington affirmed.

Usnavi grinned and did a sort of jazz-hands at her. Sonny looked like he was going to be sick.

“So… when Abuela Claudia… died, did- did somebody kill her?” He finally asked. Pete felt a chill go down his spine. Of all the information he’d tried to absorb, the fact that there was an angry, murderous man potentially out to get them had not yet registered. It sure registered now.

“No. Well- yes, sort of, but no, nobody actually killed her. Look, all you need to know is that there’s no need to worry about anybody else’s safety here. Ever since the breach incident during that blackout you guys had—”

_Fucking shit, the BLACKOUT was a part of this attack, too?_ thought Pete.

“—we’ve managed tight surveillance around the area. To the best of our knowledge, the area has been secured since that plane crash earlier—”

THE PLANE CRASH HAD TO DO WITH US? DID THEY PLAN THE FUCKING HURRICANE TOO—

“—and Usnavi and everyone else here have been kept under close monitoring, either from our surveillance centers or by our temporary field agent— oh, which reminds me.” He turned to Usnavi. “Since we’re revealing secrets here, Benny was the one acting as our agent after Abuela Claudia went down. Don’t blame him for being busy all the time because it was really us ordering him around.”

Pete needed to lie down.

Sonny didn’t look much better, either. Even the Rosarios were standing off to the side, looking rather bewildered. The only one of them who seemed to be able to form a coherent thought was Vanessa.

“So lemme get this straight,” she said slowly, brows furrowed. “Usnavi is actually this other guy—”

“Alexander—” said Usnavi.

“—But you’ll still call him Usnavi, because he’s still under federal protection—” Washington cut in.

“—Right,” Vanessa continued, waving them both away with a hand. “So he’s this other guy who died but didn’t really die—”

“—yes, we faked his death to get him out—” Washington interjected again.

“—and you brought him here, changed his identity, and somehow erased his memories.”

“It’s the neuroblockers, fascinating technology, really—”

“Shut up, I’m not done yet,” Vanessa interrupted. She told the actual former President of the United States to shut up. And he obeyed. In any other situation, this would’ve made Pete’s entire week. But this was not any other situation, so he barely even registered it.

“And so there was some sorta breach this summer, which led to everything that happened, and Benny having to step in as an agent.”

“Pretty much, yeah.”

“But Benny’s gone now.”

“Don’t worry, we’re putting a new field agent in. I can’t tell you who they are, for confidentiality reasons, but as soon as I smooth this whole thing over and get outta here, they’re gonna protect you guys.”

“So you’re here to...”

“Fix whatever’s been breached, basically. Make sure the enemy agent’s not aware that Usnavi’s alive, implement our new security measures, wipe your memories—”

“Woah wait, WHAT?” Sonny interjected, looking quite panicked.

“Kidding, only kidding. But on a serious note, everything I just told you does not get repeated again. Ever. Understand?”

He looked around the room threateningly, and everyone nodded quickly.

“That goes for everyone who already knew him, too. I know you’re all excited to have your friend back, and believe me, I am, too, but he could still be in danger. As far as we all know, Alexander Hamilton died four years ago.”

Nobody spoke, nodding solemnly at the man. Except for Usnavi, that is. He looked around once and flashed a devilish grin at Washington.

“But he’d want us to celebrate his memory.”

“It is truly ‘im!” The frenchman cheered, and once again the room was filled with happy exclamations and excited clapping. Usnavi, for one, looked like an entirely different person. There was a sort of freedom, a new looseness in the way he moved as he interacted with all his new (or old?) friends, and a new glint in his eye. He seemed to be glowing.

Sonny, on the other hand, did not look as well.

His face was pale and his lips were slightly parted as if he were just about to say something but he wouldn’t. He was standing stock-still and staring out into space.

“You okay?” he asked him. Pete couldn’t wrap his head around what had happened that night, but he imagined it had to be even worse for Sonny. Usnavi was (had been? Was? Is?) his cousin and the only family he had left. Except suddenly he wasn’t family at all.

Sonny swallowed and shook his head minutely to clear whatever thoughts occupied his head before staring at the ground. “Yeah, I just… I need a minute,” he said quietly before turning the other way. Pete grabbed his hand to turn him back around, bringing the other hand up to touch his pale cheek.

“Are you sure? Do you need me to come with you?”

Sonny didn’t respond except to stare at something over Pete’s shoulder and then look up to give him a warning glance.

Which was when he realized that the Rosarios were behind him and he was being a little more than friendly toward Sonny at the moment. Quickly, he dropped his hands, trying to play it off as some sort of natural movement. Sonny took a step backward and looked away casually.

“I think I’m just gonna go to bed,” he said, still staring at nothing in particular.

“Are you sure you’re—”

“Tomorrow morning,” he interjected, giving him one more quick glance to say that there would definitely be time to talk then. “I’ll be fine. I’m gonna go to sleep, that’s all. I got school tomorrow anyway.”

“...Okay.”

He hated not being able to do anything, especially not that Sonny looked so lost. He felt useless.

That was funny — useless. Kevin Rosario muttered the spanish equivalent of that feeling — _inutil_ — to himself all the time. Ironically, it was only now that he could feel that very man staring him down that he truly knew what the word really meant.

With the ghost of a touch on his arm, Sonny slipped away and Pete was alone again. He figured there was no use staying at the party anymore, seeing as the only person he could really talk to had retreated, and pretty much everyone else seemed to be preoccupied with Usnavi’s new… whatever he was. He turned to start heading for the exit and walked right into the Rosarios.

“Pete.”

He nodded in greeting at Camila and tried for a polite smile at the both of them.

“Hello. Weird night, huh?”

Camila smiled politely back. Kevin Rosario did no such thing.

“Where’s Sonny? Wasn’t he with you?” he said shortly.

“Sonny just went to bed,” replied Pete, involuntarily taking a step back. “Y’know how it is, with school starting tomorrow.”

“Did you at least make sure he was okay?”

He nodded, trying to pretend he didn’t notice the accusatory tone in his voice. “He’s alright. It’s… it’s a lot to process, so he’ll probably need a couple days. We all probably need a couple days. But you know Sonny, he’s a happy kid.”

Camila nodded. “Well, if you see him before we do, tell him the Rosario house is always open for him. Just in case any of this ‘secret agent’ stuff starts to get to him.”

“Yep. Okay. You got it.”

He was still cringing internally at his response when Kevin started slowly shuffling away, clearly trying to escape the conversation.

“Well, I should be turning in, too,” said Pete, taking a couple of steps toward the door. “Maybe sleeping on this whole thing might make it easier to get.”

Kevin nodded his agreement, signaling the end of the talk. Pete turned to the door, hoping to get out before anyone else could talk to him.

“Pete, wait.”

He turned. Camila took a couple of hesitant steps towards him, and looked around for Kevin. He had fled across the room in record time and was now talking to Vanessa. She sighed.

“The… the same goes for you. If ever this whole thing… affects you, in any way, our door is always open.”

Pete felt like he was on a roller coaster, and that statement was the drop right when you think it’s over. Camila Rosario had basically invited him — Graffiti Pete — into her house. This plot twist ride was never-ending.

“Thank you,” he mumbled, not sure of what else to say.

Camila smiled and strolled off to join another conversation, and Pete finally escaped through the front door and closed it behind him.

~~~

The walk home went pretty quickly, provided there was a lot to think about. First there was this whole man-out-to-kill-them business, which nobody seemed concerned about in the slightest, even though Washington himself said that this murderer was responsible for a blackout and a plane crash and Abuela Claudia’s death. Or did he? The details were all getting mixed up in his head.

That was the other thing that he couldn’t quite wrap his head around: Abuela Claudia had been some sort of secret agent. Her face and the face that came to mind when he thought ‘secret agent’ didn’t match at all. And weren’t they supposed to be armed all the time? And able to chase people down the road and hijack cars and all that stuff that they do in the movies?

Maybe she could. He tried to imagine Abuela Claudia putting on some shades and karate-kicking some bad guys in the face. Secret agents were supposed to be _secret,_ after all, and so she had done a very good job in whatever she was supposed to be doing.

His thoughts were running too quickly as he let himself into his apartment and unfolded his futon-couch to lie down. There was no way in hell he was drifting off to sleep anytime soon, and there was no use wasting electricity on his TV when he couldn’t even focus on a single thought for five seconds. He lay there, eyes open, just thinking.

Once he got past the shock of it all, there wasn’t much that he really needed to know. Usnavi was still Usnavi, after all, it was just that before he got there, he was somebody else. And all this secret agent business was running in the background to protect him from whatever tried to kill him in the first place.

_Okay, sure,_ thought Pete, rolling over. As outrageous the news was, he found himself believing all of it. Maybe it was the fact that it had come from the mouth of George Washington himself. The man could’ve told him that Usnavi was an alien and he’d probably believe him.

_Besides,_ he thought. _You don’t really have to know everything. You just have to understand what’s going on so you can be there for the people who actually have to deal with it._

Like Sonny. The guy he knew as his cousin was suddenly not even related to him. But Pete knew enough of the situation to help him through it, to be the normalcy he needed when everything else was changing, and to assure him that Usnavi and the rest of his family would still be there for him.

He finally closed his eyes, ready to settle in for bed. If he could keep Sonny more or less at peace, that was all he really needed to do. The rest of it would take care of itself. For the first time since the party started, he understood what was going on with the world.

Then there was a knock at the door.

He got up slowly, stretching before heading over to greet his visitor. _That's probably Sonny,_ he thought. _He probably couldn’t wait the entire night to talk to someone. I wouldn’t blame him, I—_

He opened the door. It wasn’t Sonny.

A man, about the same height and build as him, stood in the hallway. He had very close-cropped hair, and apart from his dark under-eye circles, looked exactly like…

_Hold the fuck up._

“Hey, Pete,” said the man, waving awkwardly and offering a smile that looked more like a grimace.

“Dad?”

And once again, Pete had no idea what the fuck was going on.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> QUÉ
> 
> Chapter 5 Sneak Peek:  
> George Washington never told a lie. Until he ran around a corner, stole a cherry pie  
> And Usnavi gets mad because not even his former boss is allowed to steal from the bodega


	5. George

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A normal Monday in the life of George Washington.  
> That's it.  
> That's the story.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> okay you don't know how difficult it was to use ALL THE TITLES of both musicals but without a doubt Cabinet Battle 1 and 2 were the hardest to fit in here  
> Anyways enjoy. And then go and have a great day.

The first thing George did when he got back home was collapse on his couch and let out a huge breath of air.

Well, to clear things up, it wasn’t his couch. Or his house. He was only staying in the barrio for a little while, so he decided he’d save himself a whole lot of money by just crashing at Benny’s place. It’s not like he would notice, anyway, because Benny was still in California and not speaking to him. And if he happened to come back before George left, well, it wasn’t like he could get much angrier at him, anyway. Plus he would finally get the chance to apologize in person.

The second thing George did when he got home was sit up and open the laptop that had made its home on the (rather greasy) coffee table. He had decided that the Washington Heights Project needed a clean slate after that entire breach fiasco, so he had flown down to reinstate Usnavi’s social agent and monitor the area for a couple of days to make sure nobody else had caught on.

Except for the fact Alexander uncovered his old identity (it was only a matter of time before his pills ran out, as there wasn’t anyone left to refill his prescription) and he was forced to tell the whole story to all of his old and new friends. He could deal with that, though. The monitors were still showing up clean, none of his names were being mentioned over the phone lines, no suspicious people were moving in and out of the area, and everything was carrying on as normal. As long as everyone in the room kept his secret safe (and he knew that they would), it was gonna be smooth sailing until he left on Saturday.

Suddenly, a little blip showed up in one of the apartments. He switched to the cameras quickly, wondering who could be up and about at twelve o’clock on a Monday morning.

A man he guessed to be around his age was strolling down a hall, head turned down so George couldn’t see his face. He looked up every once in a while to count the numbers on the doors, but even then, he was always looking the other way.

That’s a little odd, thought George. It wasn’t Usnavi’s apartment complex, so he wasn’t exactly alarmed, but he switched camera angles to get a side profile of the man, anyway. He was wearing a black hoodie with his hands shoved into the pockets, long blue jeans, and a rather bulky backpack slung over one shoulder. As he watched, the man abruptly stopped in front of a door and knocked.

Knocking was a good sign. It meant he wasn’t there to break in or anything. After a moment, the door opened, and– _hey, I know that kid!_

It was Pete, from Usnavi’s party. He was the quiet one who had hung out with Usnavi’s cousin the whole time. The one who was constantly wearing a confused expression, just like he was doing now.

The cameras couldn’t capture audio, but Pete reacted to the man’s greeting with a word that was unmistakably ‘dad.’ He couldn’t see the man’s response, but after a moment’s hesitation, he stood aside to let the man enter, saying something along the lines of ‘c’mon in.’ The man obeyed quickly, and Pete shut the door behind them.

_Okay, so it’s just his dad coming over to visit,_ thought George, sitting back on the couch. _Nothing suspicious._

Still, something in his gut told him to investigate further. Perhaps it was the way the man had avoided the cameras, or the way Pete had looked so confused to see him, or the fact that this was happening so late at night.

He opened another window and decided to do a background check on the kid. Pete Espinoza, the screen read after a few seconds of searching, was an eighteen-year-old high school dropout. That was a fairly commonplace description for Washington Heights. His address checked out as the same apartment that he’d just seen him in, though Washington noted that the place had transferred ownership from Agent Claudia to Pete two entire years ago, when he was just sixteen. He’d clearly left his dad earlier than normal.

His criminal record was clean besides a couple counts as a minor that had been wiped clean from his profile. He had them back within a couple of keystrokes. There were a couple of vandalism charges — Usnavi had mentioned Pete was a graffiti artist, so that was no big deal — and one count of theft. He investigated further and found it was for taking “one (1) bottle of soda from local bodega.”

That was definitely Usnavi’s reporting. He shook his head, chuckling as he searched for Pete’s relatives. His dad was Merino Espinoza, 35, a high school dropout with an unlisted address and occupation. His criminal record was completely clean.

He probably struggled on his own and mustered up the courage to move back in with his son. Pete seemed like a nice enough kid to take him in.

Satisfied, George closed the program and the laptop. He would, of course, be alerted if anything else suspicious happened, but he was pretty certain nothing would pop up. The Heights had its issues, but that’s what made it such a great place for his project. Usnavi was hidden well within the chaos.

He stretched a little before heading over to Benny’s bedroom, thankfully assured another peaceful night of sleep.

~~~

Despite the fact that school started that morning, the barrio didn’t look much different. There were plenty of kids still lounging about as he walked down the street to the bodega. George mentally tsk-ed himself for not doing more on the education front when he was in office.

Upon walking into the store, he was met with a new, familiar face.

“Hey, CB2!” he greeted, giving the man a pat on the back. The small man, in response, coughed once explosively into a handkerchief and turned around, looking rather startled.

“Oh, hello, Mr. Washington sir,” he said quietly.

“Good to see you. How’ve you been?”

“Well, I actually just caught a bit of a cold, so—”

“When do you not have a cold?” laughed George, glancing at the counter. “I see you boys have finally reunited with Madison?”

“Why do you call him CB2?” Usnavi asked in response.

“It stands for Cabinet Battle 2. I’m not sure you remember, but way back when you were in my cabinet, debates always turned into battles because it was always you against Madison and Cabinet Battle 1—”

“Jefferson,” growled Usnavi, apparently remembering quite well. He turned to John. “Be glad you died before you could meet that asshole. And that we never have to see him again.”

“Why?” John asked, laughing a little at how quickly Usnavi’s mood had changed. “What made him so bad?”

“Ohohohoho,” Usnavi replied, pacing the floor behind the counter. But then he paused.

“I can’t remember yet.”

John snorted and Usnavi glared at him. “But it was HORRIBLE, I can tell you that!” he pouted indignantly.

“Alright, I believe you,” replied John, taking the other man by his shoulders and steering him back to his place at the register. George noticed that the two men had been a lot closer — figuratively and literally — since they figured out who Usnavi was.

“George, what happened, do you know?” John asked him.

“They just took completely opposite views on nearly every single issue, and neither of them would relent on their stance. And… if I were to be completely honest, Jefferson was just a little more confident in his—”

“Confident? Hah! That cocky son of a b-”

“Anyway,” continued George pointedly, knowing full well a rant about Jefferson could go on, even if Usnavi knew nothing about the man. “You won’t have to worry about him anymore. He’s one of the men who hired Alexander’s captor, so he’s in jail serving three life sentences.”

“Actually,” James Madison spoke up from behind him. “You _think_ he hired Alexander’s captor. He never confessed to it.”

George finally put two and two together and came to the realization that Jefferson and Madison had been friends, and that Jefferson was in jail, and that there was at least one more man on the loose, and jumped.

“Madison!” he yelled, louder than he meant to. The customers in the bodega all stopped to stare at them, and he sheepishly waved them away. “What are you doing here?” he asked, a little softer this time.

“I, um-” James coughed once again into his handkerchief. “I knew senator Henry Laurens way back, and so I tracked down John here to give him my condolences,” he replied, and despite listening hard, George detected no sort of falsehood in his tone. “Though I wasn’t aware of this whole double-fake-death thing going on. And I might’ve been better off giving them to another Laurens sibling.”

“No, you wouldn’t have,” John interjected icily. “I put your condolences right where they belong, in the fucking blender. That shit’s in your coffee now, and I never want it back.” He turned to James. “No offense, though,” he recovered quickly, his tone instantly warmer. “I ‘ppreciate the thought. And I hope the coffee’s good.”

James gave him a little smile and George let his guard down. Madison couldn’t be the other suspect he was looking for; he wouldn’t hurt a fly. Besides, he was looking for somebody who could’ve subdued Alexander Hamilton, who wasn’t exactly big, but was scrappy as hell. Madison, all frail and sickly 5’4” and 120 pounds of him, couldn’t keep him if he tried. All he could really try to do was infect him with a cold and hope for the best.

“Okay, sorry for yelling at you. I just gotta make sure Usnavi’s safe here. Speaking of which, you won’t tell anyone, right?”

“‘Course not,” replied James, nodding quickly. “I can barely wrap my head around it myself.”

George smiled. “Yeah, it’s a bit of a mind-blower for everyone. Thank you, though.”

“It’s the least I can do. Oh, and Alex- er, I mean, Usnavi?”

“Usnavi,” the man affirmed.

“If it’s all the same to you, I’m sorry for all this happening to you. Even if it wasn’t Jefferson’s fault, it still sucks. Lemme know if there’s anything I can do to help.”

“Thanks, Mads. I will.”

George took his cue to go on with his business as usual. “Well, I’m going to get what I came here for and get outta your hair,” he said before wandering through the aisles. Under the pretense of browsing the shelves, he looked around for security cameras. There were two on the wall behind him.

_Perfect,_ he thought, standing at the end of an aisle and closely inspecting a bag of Cheetos. With the other hand he took out his wireless connector device and after a few seconds of searching, he got the footage from the first security camera on screen. He took a step to the right, and so did little screen George, confirming the footage was live and up-to-date. With the click of a button, he linked the camera to his own surveillance system.

He took the Cheetos, too. They looked damn good.

After repeating the process with the other camera (and subsequently taking the sour belts he pretended to stare at) and paying for his stuff, George was back on the street.

Footage work was just about done on his half of the barrio, and the new social agent would take care of the other half. Task number two was going around to make sure all the cell signal triangulators were operational. He sighed, opened his Cheetos, and began the long zig-zag walk across town.

As he watched his dot blip down the road from his handheld monitor and wiped a drop of sweat from his forehead, George began to fully appreciate how much work being a social agent actually was. It had only been an hour and he was already tired. His route was just about over; all the triangulators on his side of the GWB (the bridge that his dad had named after him when he was a baby) were operational, but next he had to go around and make sure the cell phone conversations were actually being monitored. If they worked properly, he could call someone and his entire conversation would be recorded from the moment he said either “Usnavi” or “Alexander” or any incarnation of the two.

He had no idea how Abuela Claudia had been able to do this for so long. And not only did she have to walk, she had to do _double_ what George was doing because she had no one to help her. A pang of guilt hit him again as he realized Benny had to it, too. He used to chat with him on the phone as he walked around, not letting him know that he was actually being recorded.

Beyond that, he used to make Benny do everything and MORE— minus securing camera footage, Benny would have to test the cell triangulators, keep Usnavi safe when the time came, and check out any suspicious activity. And on TOP of that, he had to fill Usnavi’s prescriptions, make sure he was taking his pills, keep his past a secret, and deliver new triangulators to where the old ones had broken down in the extended blackout period.

Even for an agent, that was a lot. And he’d just thrown his brother into the job like it was nothing. He took him away from his family, his friends, and his girlfriend, all so he could talk to him more often.

There were better ways to do that, he thought regretfully, pulling out his cell phone. _You really messed up with him and now you can’t even apologize._

“Oh!” A voice exclaimed, and suddenly a body ran into him and he heard the crash of falling glass.

“Shoot, my bad— oh, geez, sorry, Lafayette!”

Lafayette, who had bumped into him, tripped, and tumbled to the ground, bounced up quickly and brushed his shirt off. In one hand he carried a rather gigantic jar of pickles.

“Bonjour, Monsieur Washington! Do not apologize, I am the one with the two left feet.”

“No, I wasn’t looking there I was going.”

“Drop the matter,” Lafayette cut in, waving him off. “I am alright. And my peeckles are still good. It is all that matters.”

George smiled at the gigantic pickle jar, and Lafayette cocked his head and looked at him concernedly.

“What is wrong? You seem troubled.”

“Nothing,” George replied, turning off his phone and shoving it into his pocket. His job description still wasn’t open to the public, despite him having revealed a whole lot at last night’s party.

“No, it is something. You need to talk. Come with me,” he said, grabbing his arm with one hand and walking in the other direction.

“Wait, no, I’m doing my job—”

“Your job is not as urgent as the matter on your face. I ‘ave prepared a meal at our motel and you may empty your troubles over a plate. And rest, you seem tired.”

For one, it was hard to turn down Lafayette’s cooking, but he didn’t really have a choice, anyway. The man was still dragging him along.

_Oh, well,_ thought George, stumbling forward and following Lafayette down the street. _I can finish my job when I get back._

~~~

Adrienne greeted them at the door with a bright smile and a kiss on both cheeks before letting them in.

“I am glad to ‘ave company,” she said cheerily, grabbing an extra set of cutlery for George despite his half-hearted refusal. “It is no trouble at all, and I simply— PEECKLES!”

She shrieked and dropped the plate and fork onto the table, running over to Lafayette. She grabbed the jar and gave him a happy kiss on the mouth.

“ _Je t’aime, mon amour,_ ” she squealed happily. “ _Merci._ ”

Lafayette chuckled and turned to George while Adrienne busied herself from opening the jar. “She was craving salty things all morning, so I promised her a very salty treat. Yesterday it was bitter, and then sweet, and then spicy… our little one must ‘ave quite the appetite.” He beamed, patting Adrienne’s stomach. “Though before yesterday we did not know ‘e was in there, and it was just very confusing.”

Adrienne giggled. “I wos getting fat and sick and craving food, but I just thought that was me becoming American.”

“Not all Americans are like that!” protested Lafayette, and was instantly placated by a (salty) kiss on the cheek from his wife.

“I know. It is good country. Just not with food. So shall we eat?”

They sat at the table to enjoy a delicious meal of Lafayette’s cooking — well, George and Laf did, while Adrienne devoured her pickles — and light conversation, mostly about the pregnancy. Apparently, she was about three weeks into it and hadn’t noticed at all.

“It wos the Schuyler sisters who finally made me pee on the stick,” she said, holding up a pickle spear like a pregnancy test. “They told me everything I wos feeling could be because I ‘ave a baby in my stomach. And so I did. And ‘ere we are.”

The mini-meal was just about done when Lafayette finally got to the whole reason George was invited in the first place.

“So, mon ami,” he said, folding his napkin and placing it neatly on the table. “What weighs your mind?”

Adrienne took the cue to leave and gave him a small smile before taking their plates to the kitchen.

George sighed. Lafayette was going to get it out of him one way or another. He was reminiscent of that one hyper-intuitive child that everyone loves but is also slightly disturbed by because of his frightening ability to read people.

“You know my brother, Benny?”

“Oui, I remember you talked about him a lot.”

“Yeah, well, he’s mad at me because I got him involved in this whole Usnavi business when he didn’t want to be. I just… I kinda ruined his life.”

“‘ow come?”

“I kept taking him away from his girlfriend and all his friends, and he couldn’t even tell them why because I made him keep it a secret."

“And ‘e did not understand it.”

“Right. So then when his girlfriend broke up with him, he finally snapped. He flew to California to make up with her and hasn’t spoken to me since. I just— I know I messed up, but he won’t even talk to me. I talked to my wife, and she told me to just wait for him to cool down and then apologize. But what if he never cools down? I started to realize today just how badly I messed up. What if he doesn’t want to talk to me again?”

Lafayette drummed his fingers on the table, thinking hard. “You said you took away ‘is friends and girlfriend?”

“Yeah, pretty much.”

“And you ruined ‘is life?”

“Basically.”

And ‘e quit talking to you to go find ‘is girlfriend again?”

“I don’t know how this is helping—”

“Monsieur Washington, forgive me for saying so, but it seems your brother is mad at you.”

“Are you serious right now—”

“And he broke ‘is connection with you so he can go and fix the life you ruined.”

Lafayette was a smart man, but George honestly couldn’t see a single helpful piece of information coming out of this conversation. “Where is this going?”

“Just— ‘ow you say? Listen me out.”

“Hear me out.”

“Right. So if Benny is in California to fix things up with his girlfriend, that means she was a big part of ‘is life. But ‘is friends are, too, non?”

“Wha- yeah, I’m sure they are.”

“So, once ‘is girlfriend forgives ‘im, then he will come back so he can fix things up with his friends.”

“Okay, sure. But that might be later. A lot later.”

“But you are ‘ere now!” Lafayette said happily, as if he’d found the solution.

“But… I’m leaving. I don’t live here and by the time I leave, he’ll probably still be—”

“George, you care for your brother, non?” Lafayette cut in, annoyed.

“Of— of course.”

He nodded. “Then if he is as valuable to you as I know he is, then you can _wait for ‘im to come back._ ”

His solution was so simple that it left George wondering how the hell he hadn’t just thought of it himself.

“Laf, you’re a genius.”

He grinned. “I know.”

“Wait, so…” said George slowly. “I just wait for him to come back and apologize then?”

“Oui.”

“And what if he doesn’t accept my apology?”

Then you wait some more. If he is fixing ‘is life, let the man fix it. And when the time comes, he will want to fix things with you, too.”

George frowned. Benny’s words echoed in his head again. _My life was just fine without you in it._

“But what if he doesn’t _want_ me in his life?” he asked miserably.

Lafayette stopped to think about that one.

“I think he does. If he did not, then he would not ‘ave listened to you for so long in the first place.”

“I dunno. I think I might’ve ruined it for him.”

“What makes you so sure?”

“He… he told me. Right before he left, he told me… he doesn’t want me there. He said his life was better before I was in it.”

Lafayette clicked his tongue and gave him a sympathetic glance. “Ouch. That is ‘arsh. If it is all the same to you, I think our lives are even more wonderful with you in it.”

“Thanks, Laf. But that doesn’t really help me here.”

“Oh, but it does! He said those things because of what you made ‘im do, not because of who you are. His friends can convince ‘im that you are more than just your job, and YOU can assure ‘im that he will not be doing any of that stuff again. He will understand eventually. He loves you.”

“You think so?”

“I know so. We all love you, and he is your blood. That means he must love you even _more_.”

George chuckled, looking down at the table. “I wish that was how it worked.”

“It IS ‘ow it works! You see that bump? That little bump on my lovely wife?” He gestured to Adrienne, who was walking around the living room and reading a book, and still munching on pickle spears.

“That bump ‘as made me go to the store and buy more food than a professional chef might ever use. He ‘as taken away my right to share a drink with my love for the next nine months. He will cause her more pain than she ‘as ever experienced, and then he will keep both us up to the dead hours of the morning by screaming ‘is little head off. And all through that, I will love 'im. We will both love 'im. Because he is our _blood._ ”

At three weeks pregnant, that bump was probably more pickles than baby. He nodded anyway. Lafayette, maybe, had a point.

“Except that bump will also be cute. That’s like half the reason anyone loves babies.”

“And do not think you do not also ‘ave looks on your side, mon ami,” Lafayette replied, winking.

George chuckled. If nothing else, a talk with Laf never failed to lift his spirits. “Thank you, Lafayette. And thanks for the meal.”

“Of course. I am ‘ere for you anytime you need me. And so is everybody else.”

He smiled and thanked Adrienne, too, before taking his leave. He needed to get back to his job. The break was great, though, because it cleared his mind of the whole issue with Benny. In addition, he still had to check the cell recorders and now he knew exactly who to call.

“Good morning, dear.” She picked up while he was still walking down the hall of Laf’s apartment building.

“Morning, Martha. How are you doing?”

“I’m doing fine. Getting much more sleep than I’d’ve ever thought possible.”

George chuckled. “Don’t miss me too much, there.”

“Believe me, I won’t,” she teased back. George could practically see her drowsy smile over the phone and couldn’t help but smile himself.

“So how are you doing out there?” Martha continued.

“I’m doing fine. So is Usnavi.” There was the keyword — the recorders should be listening in to his conversation now. He started his maze-like route through his half of the neighborhood. “Everything’s going perfectly smoothly.”

“That’s good,” Martha replied, stifling a yawn. “So when are you coming back home?”

“Uh… actually, that’s kinda what I called you about.”

“Oh?”

“I was supposed to fly back by the end of the week, once everything was wrapped up here. But do you think you could let me stay a few more days?”

“Do you _need_ a few more days?”

“They… they would be nice. Look, I just talked to Lafayette and we agreed that I might get through to Benny if I just waited for him to come back and apologize then.”

Martha paused, and for a moment George wondered if she was going to refuse. But then she chuckled.

“He _really_ means a lot to you, doesn’t he?”

“Wha— yeah, of course he does! What do you mean?”

“I mean you’ve had political enemies basically send you death threats for years and you just brush them off. But now that your brother’s giving you the silent treatment for a couple of weeks, it’s the most pressing issue in the world.”

“Martha, I really do want to get home to you soon, but—”

“Of _course,_ dear. I’m only pulling your leg. Take all the time you need and come back when it’s all settled. I’m just admiring how much you love him.”

“I- I just miss talking to him—”

“Hey, tough guy,” Martha laughed again, the light and airy sound making him smile in spite of himself. “It’s okay to admit it. You love your brother.”

“Fine. I do.”

“No, you have to say it out loud.”

“Are you serious right now?”

“Repeat after me.”

George looked around and dropped his voice to a whisper. “Oh my gosh, Martha, I’m in public—”

“I. Love. My. Brother.”

“I’m NOT doing this—”

“I,” she repeated, giggling. “Love, my, brother.”

“This is stupid,” George muttered, looking around at everyone walking past him and praying they weren’t eavesdropping.

“No, it’s not. It’s perfectly normal, and I’m not letting you off this line until you say it.”

“I can let _myself_ off the line,” he shot back.

“Hah. I’d like to see you try. You still didn’t say it, I—”

George pressed end call, and as soon as he did, felt a disturbance in the Force.

She called back immediately, and the thought of ignoring crossed his mind briefly. Then, of course, his survival instincts kicked in and he answered.

“Hello?” said George innocently.

“George Washington, did you just HANG UP ON ME?”

“No,” he lied meekly, unable to keep himself from smiling.

“We’re still not done here.”

He sighed, exasperated. “Fine.” George looked around, ensuring that no passers-by were listening in.

“I love my brother,” he finally mumbled.

“What was that? I didn’t quite catch it.”

“Martha Washington, I swear to God—”

“No, incorrect. Try again.”

He sighed again, louder this time. “I love my brother!”

“There it is,” she laughed. “Well done. And yes, I know you do. And he loves you too, so as soon as he gets there you’ll apologize and you’ll both go on begrudgingly loving each other as the Washington men do. And then you can come back home to me because you owe me a kiss for hanging up on your own wife.”

George laughed sheepishly. “Okay. I will. I love you, Martha.”

“And I love you.”

He could almost hear a smile creeping up on her face.

“You’re still in trouble, though.”

And Martha Ann Washington hung up on him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> fun fact George Washington doesn't have a middle name (but if he did Martha would totally use it all the time)
> 
> I don't have a chapter sneak peak, but I grant you this:  
> It is Monday in the bodega-verse.  
> Monday is a big day in the bodega-verse.  
> :)


	6. Usnavi

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> MONDAY HAS ARRIVED IN WASHINGTON HEIGHTS  
> Which means Sonny goes to school!  
> And Usnavi realizes that with great realizations come great responsibility.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> GUYS!  
> GUESS WHERE I JUST CAME FROM!  
> a very fun vacation which i realized might be a point of stasis for some and so i've redacted it oops  
> BUT IT WAS AMAZING AND SO FUN!  
> anyways that was the reason for my radio silence. But now that I'm back I think these next two chapters will come snippity snap

Alexander was having a terrific, fantastic, no bad, very good day.

Or — well, Usnavi was. George had been very firm about that the night before: he couldn’t reveal his old name or identity, to protect him from whatever murderer was out to get him. But it was fine; George had assured him that after his plane to the Dominican Republic exploded, he was just about in the clear.

He hummed a tune while he flipped pancakes at his little home stove. Sonny was starting his senior year of high school today, so he figured he could open the bodega a little later and see the kid off. He was still in his room, so Usnavi was going to surprise him with a nice little breakfast when he came out.

He heard motion from the hallway and turned around to greet Sonny with a bright smile. “Good morn- what the?”

It wasn’t Sonny emerging from Sonny’s room; it was, in fact, Pete. And he looked rather angry.

“Pete, what are you doing here–”

“Go talk to your cousin,” he interrupted, pointing to Sonny’s closed bedroom door. Actually, he demanded it. There wasn’t a trace of shame or fear on his face that any sensible person would show when caught in a house that they weren’t invited to.

“O-okay,” Usnavi stammered, too confused to be angry himself. “Lemme just finish these pancakes–”

“Forget your fucking pancakes!” Pete whisper-yelled, looking angrier by the second. “Ain’t nobody give a shit about your pancakes!”

“What’s going on-”

“Just GO!” That was a full-on yell, and Usnavi jumped a little and walked straight over to Sonny’s door. Angry Pete was frightening in itself, but coupled with the fact that it had something to do with Sonny, Usnavi was suddenly very nervous to find out what was in his cousin’s room.

He knocked twice and hesitated for a moment before opening the door. Sonny was sitting on his bed facing the other way. His shoulders were slumped, almost in a defeated sort of posture.

“Sonny?” he ventured quietly.

At the sound of his voice, Usnavi heard a little sniff and his little cousin’s shoulders slumped even further as he let out a short gasp — Sonny was _crying._

“Aw, jeez,” Usnavi said quickly, approaching the be and sitting tentatively next to him. “What’s the matter?”

Sonny just shook his head and turned away, burying his face in his hands and trying unsuccessfully to hold back tiny, choked sobs. Usnavi had no idea what to do. Sonny was never like this; he was more or less a happy kid who could take care of himself. If something bothered him, he never had any reservations about sharing it. This was just completely out of the ordinary, which made it even more unnerving.

“C’mon. I know you hate school, but I didn’t think it was _this_ bad,” he half-joked, but Sonny wasn’t having it. If anything, he started to cry even harder. Usnavi watched him appear to collapse in on himself and was suddenly struck by how small he looked. He was still so _young._

“No, okay, I’m sorry, it’s not funny. C’mere.” He scooted closer in an attempt to console his now-sobbing cousin, tentatively throwing an arm around his shoulder and hugging him tightly.

“It’s okay, I’m here. You can tell me what’s going on, you can tell me anything.”

Sonny turned away and didn’t respond.

“What is it? Is it school?”

He shook his head, still looking away. _At least he’s responding,_ Usnavi reassured himself. _C’mon, you have to figure this out._

“Is it…” he racked his brain to think of something, anything that might have bothered him. “Oh God, is it Pete? If he hurt you, I swear–”

“No,” Sonny cut in, shaking his head fiercely.

Usnavi wondered why Sonny still couldn’t look him in the eye. _Oh, no,_ he thought suddenly, Pete’s angry outburst once again coming to mind.

“Is it… me?”

Sonny didn’t respond except to sniffle and cover his face in his hands again, but that told Usnavi everything he needed to know.

“It is me. Oh God, Sonny, I’m so sorry. What have I done?”

The kid took a few short, sharp gasps and began to try to control his breathing, and Usnavi rubbed his back in an attempt to help. After a few seconds, Sonny finally mumbled something, but he couldn’t hear it.

“What was that?”

That was when Sonny finally turned to face him. Immediately, Usnavi was struck by how much _pain_ there was in his stare. Pain and fear and… loss.

“Nothing. You didn’t do anything. It’s just–” He turned away again, overcome by more sobs.

“No no no no,” Usnavi murmured, putting his arms around Sonny and pulling him tighter to his chest. “C’mon. You can tell me, Sonny. I’m here for you.”

And it was faint and hidden beneath more tears, but Usnavi could just make out his cousin’s response.

“But you don’t have to be.”

He let him go to stare at him full-on, letting the words sink in.

“What?”

Sonny faced him again, but couldn’t meet this eyes this time when he spoke.

“You’re someone else. You can go and live–” a hiccup– “you can live your own life. You don’t have to– have to pretend–” a sharp breath– “you don’t have to pretend to be my cousin anymore.”

As Sonny sank again, Usnavi felt his world go crashing down with him. He put this arms around the kid again and whispered reassurances into his hair, but knew that they would amount to nothing.

In all his excitement about figuring out who he was, he’d totally forgotten how much of a blow it’d be to his friends who only knew him as Usnavi de la Vega. It must’ve been like taking something they knew and destroying it right in front of them — _like_ John, he realized suddenly, _figuring out that his whole life had been a lie._

How could he have been so oblivious? How could he have just let his cousin go to sleep last night after his only remaining family had been _ripped from his hands,_ and just because all Alexander’s new friends were back?

“Sonny,” he said firmly, taking him by the shoulders and making him look him dead in the eyes. “Look at me. I wasn’t pretending anything. I’m still — and I’m always gonna be — your cousin. Maybe not by blood, but always by heart.”

Sonny wiped his eyes and looked down at his hands. “Always,” he repeated miserably.

“Yes. Always. I’m always gonna be here for you.”

“Always, like when you were gonna leave me for the Dominican Republic with Abuela. Or when you went off with John and Benny Or if… or if you have to go and take care of your real family.”

He’d been a pretty shitty cousin, hadn’t he?

“You _are_ my real family, Sonny. And I’m sorry for all that. I just– you’re the toughest kid I know. You had to deal with both your parents dying all on your own.”

“I had Pete,” Sonny interjected quietly.

“Even worse. You had to deal with both your parents dying, and Pete, _all on your own._ ”

Sonny giggled a little — a short, choked sort of sound, but a giggle nonetheless — and wiped his eyes again.

“There we go,” said Usnavi gently. “We’re getting somewhere.”

His little cousin leaned his head on his shoulder and Usnavi stroked his hair gently.

“I never should’ve left you. But I thought for sure you didn’t need a scaredy-cat overprotective cousin nagging you all the time.”

“Well, I did,” replied Sonny. “Because it turns out I’m weaker than you thought.”

“No, you aren’t,” Usnavi said firmly, squeezing him. “You’re a kid who knows what his family is worth, and there’s nothing weak about that. I’m just the shitty cousin who didn’t realize that and screwed everything up.”

Sonny looked up at him, smiling a little. “So you’re still family?”

“Family is more than just who you’re related to, Sonny. It’s who loves you and who cares for you. I’m your family. This whole barrio is your _familia._ ”

Sonny’s smile got a little bit wider. “ _Y aún hablas español._ ”

“ _Claro que sí._ Just because I was someone else before doesn’t mean I forget who I am now. I’m still the same guy, just… different. But speaking of other languages, were you there when I started speaking french out of nowhere?”

Sonny laughed a little. “Wait, what?”

“Yeah, it was before I found out about this whole identity thing, but apparently I knew french from before and it just… came out. You know that french guy, Lafayette?”

“Yeah? What happened?”

“He asked me some question in french and I just responded off the–” he glanced at the clock.

“Shit, Sonny, you’re gonna be late. I gotta tell you another time.”

Sonny groaned and collapsed back onto his bed. “After all that? You’re still gonna make me go to school?”

“Of course,” Usnavi replied, pulling him up and ushering him through the door. “It’s your first day of senior year, you can’t miss that. Besides, I’m done being such a shitty cousin. We’re having a nice breakfast, I’m sending you to school, and when you come back, we’re having a long-overdue talk about your questionable taste in men.”

“I asked for a cousin, not my _mom,_ ” Sonny mumbled from the hallway, but Usnavi could tell he was smiling.

It was about then he realized he actually didn’t have a nice breakfast for Sonny, because _someone_ made him abandon his pancakes. Maybe cereal was a nice enough breakfast, if he put it in a fancy bowl he could–

He stopped at the sight of the kitchen, where Sonny sat at the table set with two plates, glasses of orange juice, silverware, and a pile of steaming pancakes.

“You coming?” Sonny asked him, looking at him curiously.

Usnavi smiled and shook his head in disbelief as he made his way over to the spread.

 _Maybe,_ he thought as he sipped lukewarm orange juice and chewed through more-than-a-little-overcooked pancakes, _Sonny’s taste in men wasn’t so bad._

~~~

Usnavi drummed his fingers on the bodega counter, lost in thought. It wasn’t until John tapped his shoulder that he jumped and came back to the present, looking up at him.

“Y’alright there?” he asked, grinning.

As great as figuring out his past was, life hadn’t gotten much easier for Usnavi, especially since he’d begun to comprehend _just how badly_ he’d fallen for John. Every time he looked into those bright green eyes now, a thousand wonderful memories came back to him all at once and took his breath away and left his heart pounding a million miles an hour. This time he was left with a particularly vivid image of him in a soldier’s coat, leaning against a dead tree with little white snowflakes on his hair and eyelashes. And it was NOT very much appreciated.

“Helloooo…” John said again, waving a hand in front of his face.

_Jesus Christ, you’re staring at him again._

“Y-yeah, sorry, I’m good,” he finally got out. “I’m just… thinking.”

“Would ya mind thinking over by the fridge? I don’t mind, it’s just… if you’re out of it, then I might as well help the customers.” He gestured to the store, where customers were silently forming a line at the counter.

“ _Ay, mierda,_ ” he cursed, jumping up. “I’m so sorry! No, I’m fine, I can help you guys now.”

He quickly checked out all their stuff, apologizing profusely. When he was done he stood at attention, making sure he wouldn’t ignore another customer.

“Usnavi,” said John, chuckling a little. “I can take over here it you need some time to yourself. It’s okay.”

“I- no, I’m fine. I’m good. All good now.” He flashed John a convincing grin, but apparently it didn’t work too well, because he just shook his head and walked over to lean next to him on the counter.

“What are you thinking about?”

“You.” Usnavi replied before his brain could catch up with his mouth. Needless to say, he instantly regretted it, as John’s face contorted into one of confusion.

“-and Laf and Herc and George and everyone else,” he recovered quickly, rambling on. “Everyone and all their memories. They re-emerge whenever I think about them, or when I see them. Like when I first saw you, it was like… you know your bedroom? It was like walking into your bedroom with all the boxes. That’s what I felt like when I met you — or someone like you, anyone, that I knew before — I walked into that room, except all the boxes were locked. And then this… figuring out who I was, it was like finding the key to them all and now whenever I think about you or look at you I open a box and I can put the pieces of my life back into their places and… and…”

_Realize how much I love you._

“...there’s a lot of boxes,” he finished lamely.

John was giving him an odd look, and for a moment, Usnavi was scared he might’ve voiced his thoughts out loud. But then he smiled.

“You always had a way with words,” he said. “So what’s in my box?”

Currently, it was an unfairly beautiful image of John stargazing in a grassy field somewhere, his eyes reflecting the light of the full moon.

Usnavi shook his head, partly to clear the picture from his head and partially in response to the question.

“You wouldn't wanna know. It’s mostly embarrassing stuff.”

_Embarrassing for me, maybe._

“Eugh,” replied John, crinkling his nose. “Yeah, I had a lotta those. I ain’t fixin’ to re-live ‘em anytime soon.”

Usnavi laughed in anticipation of what embarrassing moments would reappear in his memory before turning to go help some customers.

“No,” John said quickly, putting a hand on his arm to stop him. “Really. I can help here. You go unpack your boxes.” He gave him a grin and turned to the cash register.

 _Well then,_ Usnavi thought, watching him strike up a conversation with the girl that lived across from him. _I guess I can’t go wrong in remembering for a bit._

~~~

Turns out he _could_ go wrong in remembering for a bit, he could go _very wrong._ He sat in the storeroom with his face buried in his hands, feeling waves of guilt and nausea rush over him.

He’d been totally fine, sneaking glances at John and uncovering fantastic memories, smiling and storing them back in his mind. Then Hercules came in (through the actual door this time, and not out of thin air) and he got flashes of the giant man being the life of the party during their days in the war. Lafayette joined him after a little while and Usnavi got a good laugh because unlike John, the frenchman had a LOT of very memorable, very embarrassing moments. But then, Lafayette bought some pickles and left in a hurry, saying something about his wife being in a very disagreeable mood, and Usnavi was left staring down an open box filled with guilt.

 _He_ had had a wife, too. Eliza. The kindest, sweetest, most beautiful woman in the world.

It all came back to him in one fell swoop: her breathless laughter and her brilliant smile, her steady hand and heart, and every single thing he’d done to her. There was her voice over the phone when he said he was working late at the office that night. There was the hurt in her eyes when he came out of the study to find she’d already finished eating dinner. Her look, one he’d never forget again, of betrayal when he published that pamphlet after his affair. Her turning away from him when he climbed into bed.

And now, there was the present. He’d singlehandedly killed her AND their son, all because he’d managed to piss off some political enemy. Probably because he couldn’t shut up and compromise.

John had seemed to sense a change in his mood and walked up to him, asking if he was okay.

“No,” he had replied miserably.

In response, John had put a hand on his shoulder and Usnavi flinched away, overcome with guilt again. Not only did he do those things to his wife, he had realized, but he forgot who she was for four years and fell in love with someone else.

He didn’t deserve to be this happy with John. He didn’t deserve to be happy, _period._ And so despite John’s confused protests, he fled into the storeroom and sank to the ground, which was where he was now.

 _How could you just brush her off to the side like that?_ He berated himself angrily, burying his face in his hands. _All she did was love you, and give you the best, and this is how you repay her. By forgetting her and distracting yourself with John. She’s dead, you’ll never see her again. You did that to her. And now you think you can just move on?_

After a moment, there was a soft knock on the door and it opened slowly.

“John, look. I’m sorry, but I just need some time alone, okay?” he mumbled, his face still in his hands.

“It’s too bad I’m not John, then,” a female voice responded. Usnavi looked up quickly, and found probably the last face he expected to see.

“Peggy?”

“In the flesh. Try not to look so excited.”

“What are you doing in here?”

“Well, feminism called and Angelica had to answer, so I went to go see Adrienne. But then Lafayette _strongly_ warned me against that, so I decided to stop by here. And when I walked in, I found John freaking out outside saying that you hate him now or something and you locked yourself in here, so I had to see for myself.”

“He let you in the back?”

“No,” Peggy replied shortly, shouldering off a little backpack and sinking to the ground next to him. “So what’s happening? Because I know for a fact that you don’t suddenly hate John.”

He sighed. Peggy was Eliza’s sister, so chances were she already knew how much of an asshole he was. He wouldn’t be surprised if she already hated him.

“I was a horrible husband, wasn’t I?”

“Ohhh,” she said softly to herself. “So you must’ve remembered Eliza.”

“I know. I did. And I messed up so bad.”

“You’re not wrong,” she replied, grinning at him. “You did a lotta shit that a happy marriage could do without. But I can’t say you were a horrible husband.”

“Why not?”

“Because Eliza really loved you. I never understood what the hell you did to make her so crazy for you, but she was. Right up until the bitter end.”

As sarcastic as Peggy was, that particular phrase sounded completely sincere. Usnavi studied her face and, yes, she wasn't joking.

“How do you know?”

She furrowed her brows, thinking hard, and then suddenly dived into her little backpack, muttering to herself.

“I had a hunch that you’d bring this up one of these days… but did I bring it today? I wasn’t expecting to see you, but I might’ve just left it in… hold on, yep, it’s in here. Here we go.”

She carefully pulled out a medium-sized black wooden box from the backpack and placed it in his lap.

“There. So I figured Angelica would be finding all sorts of stuff to do in this part of town and you couldn’t really ask John or Herc or Laf about it, so I’d have to be the one to give it to you. Thank God I left it in my bag and we didn’t have to go across town to get it.”

“What is it?” asked Usnavi, tracing a finger along the metal hinge and turning it so he was facing a small metallic clasp in the front.

“Eliza wrote to you when you were kidnapped. A letter every single day for all 50 days, before she… y’know.” Peggy put a finger-gun to her head and mimed pulling the trigger. “It’s all in there, every little private note. And then, of course, when you were dead I went through them all and earmarked my favorites. There’s some pretty good stuff in there, my favorite is day 45 when John Adams came over and she wrote about roasting the soul out of his body–”

She stopped abruptly and cleared her throat.

“But anyway, yeah. I think you should read it, now that you remember her. She’d have wanted you to have this… closure.”

She stood up, shouldering her backpack and backing away to the door.

“I’ll give you the time alone, then maybe buy some pickles for Adri because that girl is a literal black hole when it comes to them. And- uh- you can keep the box. Just… make sure you remember her. We all… we all miss her. A lot.”

With that, she was out, closing the door behind her.

Usnavi looked back down at the black box. Slowly, he undid the metal clasp and opened it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 7 Sneak Peek:  
> It's Eliza's letters. They're Eliza's letters. Did you really think I was gonna leave you on a cliffhanger like that? Heck no.


	7. Eliza

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eliza's letters to her husband, and a chronicle of the 50 days she spent alone while her husband was being held captive 4 years ago.

_**Day 1**_  
A,

It’s been fourteen hours since you last came home, dear, and I cannot seem to recollect if you’ve even come to bed last night. You must have while I was drifting off to sleep, and perhaps I didn’t notice. Perhaps you may have also mumbled to me under the cover of dark that you had an early meeting this morning, and I simply did not hear you. In any case, I love you immensely, my Alexander, and I wish you a fruitful day and a swift return home. I shall be visiting Angelica’s house today, so should you arrive in daylight and find me absent, read this letter and feel the comfort of my words.

Yrs, B

_**Day 2**_  
My Alexander,

Earlier today Washington informed me that you are missing, that you have been stolen from us by someone who intends not to destroy you, but to destroy me and Philip and Angelica and everyone who loves you dearly. I’ve decided to write you letters in spite of this terrible, terrible occurrence. The exact reason for my correspondence has still not emerged in conscious thought, but rest assured, my dearest Alexander, that I do not intend to deliver these letters to your grave. I have full faith that whoever has run off with you does not have it in their heart to exact their ill will; soon you will have captured their affections as wholly and as soundly as you have captured those of me, your family and your dear friends.  
That being said, I miss you dearly, my love, and by all my prayers to the Lord I wish that we will be reunited soon.

Love Always, Betsey

_**Day 15**_  
Alexander,

This week I have begun to sift through your enormous volumes of letters and writings. Please forgive me, for my intent is not to pry upon your personal life. I simply believe that if someone must tell your story, then I am best positioned to do that. I promise that whatever I find, I will love you for it.

Loving Regards, Eliza

_**Day 27**_  
Alexander,

In my endeavors to make some sense of your pages upon pages of notes, I happened upon a letter today and I was reminded of the rather unpleasant happenstance that was your affair with Miss Maria Reynolds. Now, I know I have discussed my feelings about your pamphlet, and you yours, but it suddenly occurred to me that I have never outrightly told you of what I have come to terms with of the affair itself.  
I may have been angry in the heat of the moment, a heat which ignited a burning in my heart that I do believe was warranted at the time. Looking back now that the anger has dissipated, though, I have forgiven you for it. Infidelity never was, or will be, an acceptable solution to the problems you face, but I now understand the frustrations you felt. Alexander, the volume of love in your heart is far, far more immense than anyone could imagine, and it was foolish of me to believe that I alone could hold it all. It does not attest to the insincerity of love that it can be spread between all those that merit it; in fact, quite the opposite. I realize that the sentiment you reserve for me remains untainted by the affections you give to everyone else: your colleagues, your general, my dear sister Angelica, and even Miss Maria Reynolds (who I’ve had the pleasure of meeting in person, and every day she comes to visit, I am more and more certain that she was undoubtedly deserving of the care you gave to her).  
I thank the Lord every day that He has blessed me with you and your enormous heart that can capture any favor it desires, and that of all those that you could have chosen to share a home and a family with, you chose me. Through all of your mistakes and missteps, I love you, my dearest Alexander, and I hope you come home to me soon.

Ever yours, Eliza

_**Day 40**_  
Dear Alexander,

Can I please show you something that I am rather proud of? It’s on the page attached to this one. You have no doubt recognized the format, but its purpose should have remained unknown, for I have thus far kept it a clandestine operation.  
WIth the help of some friends, I’ve established the first private orphanage in New York City.  
Of course, we only have the bare foundations of it done, but when it is fully operational we’re going to save so many children, Alexander, so many of them. It’ll be wonderful.  
And in all the kids I have worked with so far, in all these beautifully talented children in tragically unfortunate circumstances, I see you, my dear. I see you in their eyes every single time. It’s part of why I established this foundation in the first place: so that I may help them get the chance at life that you had to work so hard for. I want to give them the one thing that you never got to have: assurance of their place in the world.  
I hope it is enough to tell your legacy. Such things as who lives, who dies, who tells your story, that cannot always be controlled. But I have done what I can to make sure yours is a brilliant story to tell.  
In any case, Alexander, it is only a matter of time before you come back to us, and I wish you good health and many blessings until then.

God be with you.  
Betsey

_**Day 42**_  
My beloved Alexander,

It has taken me the better part of two months to partake in enough metacognition to realize my ulterior motive in writing these letters and keeping them as concisely as I do. Or, perhaps, it was divine intervention by a Lord who has finally enlightened me so that I may relay it to you before it is too late.  
You see, Alexander, I give you all my thoughts in these letters because I am going to die before I see you again.  
Please believe me, my love, that this is not a dark, fleeting thought that’s passed through my mind in your extended absence. It is a certainty, perhaps brought about by divinity, that I have known since the words were uttered that you were taken, a fact masked by denial until recently, where I have found it and made my peace with it.  
You see, the reasons for your abduction are purely political. Washington won’t disclose that, but I can tell from your ransom letters and news coverage that whoever has you is sending their message of intolerance. I have lost track of what exactly you may have said that initiated this ploy, but knowing as you most certainly said it loudly, passionately and without compromise (and most likely long-windedly, too), it was reason for discord. In order to express their full message of political intolerance, these abductors must do more than hold you silent in a room (though that would be a feat in and of itself). It is not a statement enough. Some consequence must be reached, some action that shows that your ideas will not be accepted. They cannot simply let you go. That said, they cannot harm you, either. Even in their addled beliefs, anyone knows as well as I that you are much, much too valuable to this nation to take out of commission. Your mind, though stubborn and uncompromisingly honest, holds as many worlds and structures as the universe itself.  
Which leaves me. My mind is not nearly as valuable as yours, and neither is my position in this nation. The only position of merit I hold is being at your side, but that in itself is an immense occupation. To destroy me is to destroy you. To destroy me is to make the statement these abductors are looking for. And a brilliant mind like yours would have figured this out, too, although you may have denied it yourself out of guilt or grief.  
I beg of you, please, do not grieve for me or let guilt be your undoing. Perhaps this is not the fate I’d have wanted, sure, but it’s the fate I have chosen. And I am not afraid of it, for I knew of the immensity of this role I took on when I married you. I knew of the possibility of an end like this, and because I love you, I took it anyway. I took it and I have not regretted it for a second. And neither should you.  
My one last wish is for Philip. He had no choice in his fate, and if your abductors had any sense, they would spare him. I believe I shall leave him with Burr when I’m gone, as he’s done a fantastic job with Theo, but please take care of him when you’ve finally been set free. I’d like our son to grow up with actual ideas in that bright mind of his.  
Though the Lord has chosen this path for me, I shall not take it right away. I don’t intend on going down easily. And do not fear, Alexander, for when I go, I will go with nothing but my love for you and my family in my heart.

Forever enamored,  
Elizabeth

P.S. Should I go before I get the chance to see Maria again I should leave a message with you to carry on: please tell her that she deserves more love and gratitude than I could possibly give her.

_**Day 44**_  
Dearest Alexander,

I'm sure by this time I'm starting to sound like one of those dark apocalypse-prophesizing people who stand on the street, talking so much about my imminent demise. Forgive me, for that is not my intention. But my days are numbered, and I’d like to press upon you my final wishes before it is too late.  
Besides ensuring your own, and Philip’s, good health and prosperity, I have one last favor to ask of you when I terminate my earthly career and ascend to the heavens. I want you to find somebody else to devote your heart to as deeply as you have done with me.  
I promise, it won’t hurt. It will make both you and I happy. I, knowing that you are able to go on unaffected, will be outrightly apathetic as to where your affection goes. As long as that part of your heart does not die with me, I may live in bliss as I wait for our joyful reunion.  
And you, my dear Alexander, would be so much happier if you let me go and gave your heart to someone else. I’ve finally begun to sift through the massive mountain that is your correspondence with our dearly departed John Laurens, and what I have found makes me afraid for you.  
You loved him. You truly did, perhaps to the same as you did me. And that is not what makes me afraid, no, do not ever believe that your love for him threatened me in any way. I am afraid because you wrote to him more effusively and more passionately than I’d have ever thought possible, and after his death I have never seen even a trace of that life birthed in your enormous volumes of writings. You closed off a part of your heart and you never opened it back up again when he was gone. I am very afraid you will do the same for me.  
You must let go, my dear. You mustn’t put yourself through that suffering again. Do not be afraid to find love and embrace it wholeheartedly.  
But that does not mean to throw yourself at the first person that comes up and offers simple human decency, either. Because you can make anyone fall for you, Alexander, but not just anyone can leave your heart just as satisfied. I'm going to be honest when I tell you that it takes a special sort of person to keep up with you. So wait for them. Wait for your one: wait for your next me, wait for your John, and when they come, you'll know. If you are patient, I promise you will find someone who will be able to quiet your conflicted mind and calm your troubled heart. It’s all I want for you, my dearest. My only wish is for you to find that one person who can give you what I won't be able to offer anymore: peace.

Love always, Betsey

_**Day 50**_  
Alexander,

When I woke this morning I was suddenly overcome with a feeling. It was not dread, not fear, but it was equally as strong. It was a feeling — a conviction that I might not be going back to bed, that the next time I was once again entwined in the yoke of slumber, I would not return from it. So this may very well be my last letter.  
That being said, do not feel that this end has come too soon. All my affairs are in order. Our orphanage has been passed to the hands of Mrs. Faith Lowell, a woman I’m sure you remember well. Burr is coming to pick up Philip later tonight, so as to protect him from your abductor’s hands. The only thing I wish I had more time to do is to thoroughly illustrate your story, and my love for you. God knows there will never be enough time for that, though.  
But perhaps that is the very nature of loving you: I am sure to fall short. I suppose an infinite entity simply cannot be cut off at the end. I remember once during the whole Reynolds affair, Angelica was comforting me and talking about you. She likened you to an Icarus having flown too close to the sun, destined only to crash in a fiery death.  
In that moment I agreed, but now I realize that she had it backwards. You were not Icarus, Alexander, you were the sun. You are light and life, you are energy for everyone who is fortunate enough to stand in your presence. Which makes me the Icarus, I suppose. I allowed myself to get close to you, I allowed you to hold me in your arms and melt away my wings. I allowed you to make me mortal, to make me vulnerable, to make me helpless.  
And don’t take that as fault against the sun, or you. For I would fall to the Earth a thousand times, Alexander, a thousand times, if I got to stay in your arms for one shining moment.  
I can’t wait to see you again, Alexander. It’s only a matter of time.

Love infinitely,  
Elizabeth Schuyler Hamilton

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ...and then she dies.
> 
> Chapter 8:  
> Vanessa thinks these fucking men are hopeless.


	8. Vanessa

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Vanessa discusses the letters with Usnavi, and a day later, meets a new friend. The world may very well never be the same.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ******I'm leaving a note here for these next two chapters because they don't happen chronologically like all the others. Basically, both chapters occur over the same time frame of two days: the first on Sonny's first day of school and the second when Vanessa meets with... well, you'll see. I hope it's not too confusing.

“So lemme get this straight,” Vanessa said, pacing back and forth in front of her couch. A bewildered Usnavi sat in front of her with the small black box on his lap.

“Your wife, who literally died for you, is telling you she wants you to move on from her. She basically tells you to find your John, and you still don’t think it’s a good idea.”

“Well she was being _hypothetical_ because we both thought John was dead, so I can’t just–”

“Usnavi,” Vanessa cut in, stopping her pacing. “Isn’t what you do in a hypothetical situation is what you’d do in real life in a similar situation?”

“Sure, I guess…”

“So if your wife _hypothetically_ tells you to find someone like John and then literal John shows up, shouldn’t you _follow her advice?_ ”

“But it’s DIFFERENT!” Usnavi protested. “She meant to find someone else to love like I– like I loved him.”

 _These men are fucking hopeless,_ Vanessa thought.

“Well, do you still love him?”

Usnavi swallowed and nodded slowly.

“So… what’s the problem?”

“She meant to find someone who would love me back. Loving John is basically the same thing as trying to hold onto Eliza.”

 _These men are FUCKING HOPELESS,_ Vanessa thought again, throwing her hands in the air.

“You’re telling me that after everything I’ve told you, and all the damn money I made because you decided to bet against me–” she was up $20 because John a) wouldn’t ask her out and b) was gay– “you STILL don’t believe he could be into you?”

“...No.”

Vanessa was going to kill him. Literally kill him. Screw the murderer out there, she was going to beat them to the job.

She took a deep breath, opting instead to sit next to him and stare at the black box.

“Dude. Even your wife said she saw something there, and she only had your letters to go off of. Doesn’t that mean anything to you?”

“She said I loved him, not that he loved me back. She didn’t say anything about him.”

“But she must’ve read his letters to you when she went through your stuff. She wouldn’t’ve said ‘find your John’ if she didn’t see a connection there.”

“She wouldn’t’ve said to ‘find your John’ if she knew the real John could actually be found,” countered Usnavi.

Fuck it. Usnavi wasn’t right about a lot of things when it came to how people felt, but he sure was stubborn. Once an idea had been planted in his head, it was nearly impossible to get it out. Convincing him was a lost cause. If she wanted to get these two idiots together (and win another ten bucks from Usnavi) she needed divine intervention or something.

“I can’t believe you took a train way the hell out here to not take my advice.”

Usnavi shrugged but didn’t answer, looking back down at the box a little sheepishly. “Well, I mostly just came to get away from it all,” he finally said. “Y’know, the barrio. Everything about my life now. Eliza telling me that it’s okay to move on is a huge weight off my shoulders, but I don’t think she meant _this_ much moving on.”

Vanessa shrugged. “From what you read me, all she wanted was for you to be happy after she died. I don’t think she’d be very bothered by how you live now. Especially since forgetting her wasn’t even your fault.”

“But it IS! If I hadn’t been such an asshole when I was younger none of this would’ve even happened!”

Vanessa couldn’t help but giggle at the thought of this man being an asshole. She couldn’t even imagine it. “What made you so bad?”

“Did you NOT listen to these letters? I married her while I was still in love with John, I cheated on her and told the whole world about it, and I kept right on flirting with her own _sister,_ for Christ’s sake–”

“Woah woah woah wait,” Vanessa interrupted, sensing a new story developing. Call it too much time spent with Daniela at the salon, but she had developed a well-tuned ear for such matters. “You had a thing with Eliza’s sister? Which one?”

“Angelica. But forget that,” Usnavi said, shaking his head vigorously. “Only the old asshole me could keep up with her. Now she just scares me.”

“Angelica’s the older one?”

“Yeah.”

She hadn’t seemed particularly scary at the party, or maybe it was just because she hadn’t been around her much. In any case, the gossip had been defused and she lost interest.

“Oh. Well, no matter what you did to Eliza, she forgave you for it. So you couldn’t have been _that_ bad.”

“That’s because Eliza was too good for me,” Usnavi argued, looking forlornly down at the box again. “She was the best woman anyone could’ve possibly asked for. I didn’t deserve her.”

Vanessa really didn’t know how to respond to that. She’d never, ever seen him this sad before — even when Abuela Claudia died, he could still put on a smile for people offering their condolences.

She put a hand on his shoulder gently. “You can’t say that, Usnavi. Everyone deserves someone–”

“No, not true. I don’t deserve anyone. I've let down every single person I’ve ever loved. Just this morning, Sonny didn't know I still cared about him, and I had to learn that from _Pete._ And even from when I was young — my dad, he didn't even want me, my mom died, and then John, with that whole thing with his dad, and then Eliza, and my son, killed because of me, Abuela Claudia…” he trailed off, bringing a hand to that familiar spot on his eyebrow. "All dead."

“...Okay, so you’ve had some bad luck in that area. That doesn’t mean you should stop loving people–”

“That’s EXACTLY what it means!” interjected Usnavi. “I should stop, but I can’t! I keep on letting everyone down, and if I just _stopped feeling_ these things then I could save them from disappointment or pain or _worse,_ but I can’t! And the only one who knows how dangerous I am is John, who was betrayed and _basically killed_ by his dad because of me, which is why _he will never love me even if I wanted him to!_ ”

Vanessa stayed silent, blinking at Usnavi.

If it was possible, he looked even _more_ hopeless than when he had first knocked on her door. And Vanessa didn’t know how to help him. This absolutely _deluded_ belief that he was disappointing everyone he loved was just that: deluded. But when she took into account all the hard things he’d gone through, she reasoned it must’ve made perfect sense to him. She tried to put herself in his shoes and think of all he’d had to deal with, but she just couldn't. He’d been through too much for her to even comprehend.

“Sorry,” Usnavi finally muttered, bringing her back to the conversation at hand. She realized with a start that he had stood up, clutching the black box to his chest. “I didn’t mean to just unload all my problems on you. I’ll head back now.”

“No, Usnavi, hold on-” Vanessa stuttered, getting up and going after him. He turned his head before ignoring her and walking to the door.

“No, I really gotta go. I left John at the bodega when I came — and we’re just about to hit the back-from-work rush-”

“Usnavi, just– _wait._ ”

She grabbed his arm and spun him around before he could open the door. He looked at her, a little annoyed, and she shifted her weight nervously.

“Maybe… maybe I’ll never go through what you’ve been through. Um- to be honest, I _hope_ I don’t ever have to understand how you feel. But even through all the horrible shit you did, even if it WAS your fault all those people died, all these people who were your friends came back to you. _John_ came back to you. He found you again and he stayed and he still cares a lot about you. And maybe... you don’t think he could love you, but maybe that means _something._ ”

He stayed silent, looking down at the box and flicking his eyes up to her. For a moment, she thought she saw a trace of something there — the faintest glimmer of hope — but then he blinked it away and cast his gaze downward again.

“Thanks, Vanessa,” was all he said before opening the door, walking out and closing it behind him.

Vanessa stood there for a moment, unsure of what else to do, before sighing and returning to the couch.

_These men are fucking hopeless._

~~~

“Nice rack, girl. Ten outta ten.”

Vanessa rolled her eyes and kept walking. These were not her favorite streets to be in, for reasons such as that. It wasn’t like the catcallers bothered her or anything — she’d long learned to tune them out — but it would’ve been a lot better if they weren’t there.

Unfortunately, on a Tuesday afternoon in the barrio those streets were particularly inescapable. Unless Vanessa felt like paying for a taxi, she was gonna have to walk down at least one road filled with people with nothing better to do, probably high school dropouts that couldn’t find a job and spent their days lounging on the streets.

One of them whistled at her and she nearly smiled. She really didn’t mind the attention; it wasn’t like she was ever gonna get with one of them just because they complimented her features. Sure, it was more annoying than it ever was amusing, but that didn’t mean she couldn’t have her fun with it.

“HEY!” Someone called from the street she had just walked past.

 _Huh,_ she thought mildly. _It’s not very often I get_ girl _catcallers._

But then the voice came again, closer this time. “HEY!”

She turned to search for its source and saw a dark-skinned, thin-shouldered woman walking toward her and waving.

She stopped and waved back tentatively. The woman was still too far away to recognize, but she was closing the space quickly.

“Oh, hi!” Vanessa exclaimed when the lady finally got close enough to discern. It was one of the women from Usnavi’s party.

“Hey,” she replied, stopping and holding out a hand to shake. “You’re Vanessa, right? Alex- um, Usnavi’s friend?”

“Yeah, and you’re… um…”

“Angelica. Angelica Schuyler.”

“Right, Vanessa said quickly. “So, Angelica, you're headed this way, too?”

“Yep. I’m going to Usnavi’s store, because Adri is out of pickles. Again.” She grinned. “I think she’s eaten like nine jars so far, and she’s not showing signs of slowing down.”

“Jeez… is that healthy?”

She shrugged noncommittally. “The baby wants what the baby wants, I guess.”

“That’s one salty baby.”

Angelica hummed in agreements, grinning a little. “And I assume you’re headed that way, too?”

Vanessa nodded. “Usnavi left his coat at my place yesterday, so I was gonna go return it.”

“Well would you look at that! Would you like some company along the way?”

Vanessa smiled in agreement and gestured for Angelica to lead the way. She remembered Usnavi’s words the day before, but Angelica seemed like a perfectly pleasant and not-at-all-scary woman. Typical Usnavi, getting intimidated by another female.

“Damn, girl, how do you walk with a skirt so tight?”

“I dunno, how do you piss with a dick so small?”

Vanessa whipped her head around to look at the dude who had yelled out, who looked like he’d just been hit by a truck, and then to Angelica, who was looking straight ahead and grinning smugly.

Okay, maybe she WASN’T a perfectly pleasant woman.

“Did you just-”

“Yep,” Angelica smiled.

“Do you always…”

“Most times, yeah,” she interjected again, laughing a little. “Why, how do you deal with guys like that?”

Vanessa couldn’t help but laugh, too. “Never mind what I did, I’m trying YOUR way from now on.”

“I’d like to say it’s a bit more entertaining,” Angelica agreed. “Plus it’s, like, the only intellectual stimulation I get in this part of the city. No offense,” she added quickly.

“No, I totally get it,” Vanessa assured her. “That’s one of the reasons I got out of here as soon as I had the money. But hold up… so you just SAY stuff back?”

“Pretty much whatever comes to mind, yeah.”

“And… is it always like that? Nobody tries to fight you? To, I dunno, protect their dignity?”

“Can’t protect what you don’t have,” Angelica replied lightly, examining a fingernail. “Really, you should take a crack at it. Here are a couple people now.”

Sure enough, a pair of boys came into view, lounging on some apartment stairs down the street. Vanessa lifted her head a little as they passed, swinging her hips in a way she knew would grab their attention.

Sure enough: “hey, nice ass, babe.”

“You too,” she shot back, smiling. “In fact, I can see your friend checking you out from all the way over here.”

She swore they leapt about a foot apart from each other. Vanessa giggled as she flipped her hair and turned to Angelica, who was laughing, too.

“That was AMAZING. You’re a natural, Vanessa!”

“You think so?”

“Well, it was a little long-winded, but for a first time? Better than I’ve ever seen.”

“Thanks,” Vanessa replied, beaming. “And next time, go shorter. Got it.”

“I mean, if you can. Y’know, ‘brevity is the soul of wit’ and all.”

“You read Shakespeare?” Vanessa hadn’t personally, but one of her salon clients was a big fan and she would talk to him about it when he came in.

Angelica turned and blinked incredulously at her before smiling.

“Vanessa, I think we’re going to get along very nicely.”

~~~

They continued down the street, effectively destroying everyone in their wake, and it was the most fun Vanessa had had in a while. Angelica let her work on her comebacks (“You should smile more.” “Thanks, you should smile less”) and in turn, Vanessa taught her how to sway her hips when she walked to get more lame callouts (“I never thought that skill would come in handy!”). She was almost disappointed when they turned out of the streets and into the bodega.

The little bell chimed as they walked in together to see John cheerily manning the counter.

“Hello! Welcome to- _oh no._ ”

He blanched at the sight of them and his expression contorted into one of near horror.

“What is it?” asked Angelica suspiciously.

John didn’t respond to her, but instead looked down. “Usnavi. Look what happened.”

Seemingly out of nowhere, Usnavi popped up from behind the counter, wearing a pair of glasses that somehow made him look even dorkier than usual. “Huh?”

“Um, what were you doing under the-” Vanessa started amusedly, but Usnavi interrupted her.

“Oh, _no._ ”

“ _What?_ ” Angelica asked again.

“It finally happened,” John responded cryptically, still looking like he’d just seen a ghost.

“What finally happened?”

“You two,” Usnavi replied, pointing a finger between them. “Together. _Ay, Dios mio,_ I need one of those rosaries on aisle two.”

“You’re not even — _what are you talking about?_ ” asked Vanessa, for the third time.

Usnavi and John looked at each other, appeared to share a moment of mutual fear, and looked back at them.

“Well, John and I agreed-”

“That if the universe was smart-”

“It would keep you two apart.”

“This is like a tornado meeting a hurricane.”

“The brawn teaming up with the brain.”

“The world will never be the same.”

“...wait, are we trying to rhyme on purpose or is this a coincidence?”

Usnavi smacked his forehead. “That was going so prophetically — God DAMMIT, John.”

“Sorry.”

“You’re _such_ a disappointment. This is probably why your dad faked your death.”

“I know,” John replied solemnly. “I shoulda just stayed fake-dead.”

“Me, too. That way we could’ve run off to Mexico together and avoided the end of the world as we know it.”

“But we’re disappointments, both of us, so now we gotta suffer.”

“Spare us when you take over the world,” Usnavi pleaded, finally turning back to the two of them.

Angelica turned to Vanessa and grinned. “I dunno, Usnavi. You should see the state of the street we just walked through.”

“Oh NO!” John mock-gasped, feigning desperation. “We cannot let this happen. We gotta stop this, Usnavi, before it’s too late.”

“You’re right,” Usnavi deadpanned. “They haven’t fused into the four-armed goddess of Earth yet, we can still keep them apart.”

“This is ridiculous,” Vanessa laughed.

“This is a dead-serious matter, Vanessa,” John scolded her. “We can’t sit by and watch you two burn the world down.”

“We need to take preventative measures immediately,” Usnavi added. He turned to Angelica. “Angelica, do you really wanna be friends with a girl that used to date ME?”

Vanessa looked at Angelica to clear up that statement, but she just shrugged. “We all do things we regret later.”

Usnavi looked offended. John was trying very hard not to smirk.

“Okay, well…” John started. “Vanessa, do you want to be friends with someone who almost beat the shit out of a boy who was sharing candy with his friends?”

That was the end of the serious facade, as Usnavi burst out laughing so hard he had to lean on John for support, and John cracked, too. Vanessa watched him laugh and look down at Usnavi in a way that made her mourn, once again, how goddamn clueless the two boys were.

“Okay, FOR THE RECORD,” Angelica cut in, smirking at the two of them, “It wasn’t just any candy. It was one of those chalky candies that look a lot like roofies. I thought he was dealing date-rape drugs.”

“Doesn’t matter what you were tryna do,” Usnavi said breathlessly. “He was so freaked out-” he dissolved into laughter again, looking up at John. “Thanks for reminding me of that.”

“Pleasure’s all mine,” John replied, smiling at him.

Angelica caught her eye and gestured to the pair with her head, rolling her eyes. It was obvious she was thinking the same thing about them as Vanessa was. Vanessa shrugged helplessly in response.

“Whatever,” she finally sighed, glaring at the boys again. They had calmed down somewhat, John wiping tears from his eyes and Usnavi straightening his glasses. “I’m done with this abuse on my cautiousness. Lemme just get my pickles and get out of here. Nice glasses, by the way. Really — _really_ magnifies your eyes.”

“Shut up,” Usnavi pouted, pushing them up his nose again. “I ran out of contacts this morning.”

“So what, you had to borrow Abuela Claudia’s?” Vanessa shot back.

“You know what- I’m just gonna…” Usnavi threw his hands up in exasperation and dipped below the counter again. John laughed.

“See? Not five minutes with each other and you’ve already sucked the life out of one man. I’m tellin’ you now, you two are a dangerous combination.”

“I know, and I can’t wait to unlock our full abilities,” Angelica shot back from the aisle. “But for know, what do you think: two jars? Three? Will that hold her until tomorrow, or should I just take all your stock?”

“Just take ‘em,” replied Usnavi, popping up again in time to ring up the six pickle jars and pack them in a giant cardboard box. “I swear, Adrienne is eating us outta the pickle business. When I order my next shipment I’m sending it directly to their apartment.”

“That’s a good idea,” said Angelica, grunting as she lifted the box off the counter. “So none of us have to be the stupid deliveryman. Or deliverywoman. But ‘til then,” she continued, nodding in a goodbye sort of gesture, “she kinda needs these. See you — oh, Vanessa, gimme your number so I can text you when I’m in town.”

“Oh, yeah, here-”

“NO!” Usnavi and John yelled simultaneously.

Vanessa giggled as she took Angelica’s phone and put her number in it. Then she slipped it back into the pocket of her coat, Angelica grinned smugly at the boys, and strolled out (as easily as one can stroll with a giant box of pickles in their arms).

“That was it,” Vanessa heard John groan. “The nail in the coffin. We’re all done for. It was nice knowing y’all.”

“Now all that’s left to do is hope Adrienne devours Angelica’s phone along with her pickles,” Usnavi added.

“You guys are such drama queens,” Vanessa sighed, rolling her eyes and heaving Usnavi’s coat onto the counter. “And by the way, I’m not sure you remember, but you left this at my place yesterday.”

“Oh, THAT’S where it went!” Usnavi cried, grabbing the coat and digging into the pocket. “I was starting to panic because I couldn’t find the coat and I knew… aha!” He pulled out his phone from deep within the fabric. “Thanks for bringing this. Though it would’ve been nice to get it back before... “ he checked the phone clock. “3:07 in the afternoon. Oh, gosh, look, 4 missed calls.”

“You should’ve remembered it sooner, then,” Vanessa retorted.

“And all 4 calls were from me when we were trying to find it in the first place,” John pointed out, looking at the screen.

Vanessa smirked and Usnavi looked rather embarrassed as he muttered a “thanks” and shoved it in his pants pocket.

“No problem,” replied Vanessa. “I actually would’ve come in the morning but Dani would’ve killed me for skipping work three days in a row.”

Usnavi opened his mouth to speak, but was interrupted by the little bodega bell chiming. Vanessa turned in time to greet a rather sullen-looking Sonny with his school backpack slung over his shoulder.

“Hey, Sonny, what are you doing here?” Usnavi asked him.

“The apartment’s too quiet, Pete won’t answer his phone, and it’s too hot to be outside,” he replied shortly, making a beeline for the counter and hopping up onto it. “So I figured I’d just hang out here.”

“Why do you look so sad?” Vanessa queried amusedly. Sonny just sighed and gestured to his face.

“This? This is just my ‘school’ face. It’ll probably wear off soon.”

“This is only the second day, it couldn't have been _that_ bad.”

Sonny shot Usnavi a glare.

“Okay, okay, never mind.”

They spent a while just chatting and catching up. Vanessa missed Sonny working the cash register. He was a fresh breath of normalcy amidst the other two bodega dorks, and it felt good to have a normal back-and-forth conversation without Usnavi and John getting completely lost in their own world or Usnavi just agreeing with everything Vanessa said.

They were currently discussing the pros and cons of going to college (Vanessa and Sonny taking a serious con stance just to piss the other two off) when Usnavi’s phone went off.

“Aha! Who’s making fun of me for not having friends now,” he boasted to John, pulling it out of his pocket. “It’s good Vanessa got my phone back in time to answer my good friend-”

He frowned as he checked the message. “Huh.”

“Who is it?” John prompted.

Usnavi didn’t look up, he just kept right on frowning at his screen. “It’s Pete.”

“WHAT?” Sonny exclaimed, jumping down from the counter and trying to read over his cousin’s shoulder, with little success. “So he can talk to _you,_ but not to ME?”

“I dunno,” Usnavi replied, moving the phone rapidly in all directions to avoid Sonny’s grabby fingers. “I guess- if- Jesus- STOP, Sonny, I'll read it out if you LET ME GO! ...It says ‘hey Usnavi, can you meet me by the… oh.”

“What?” Sonny insisted again, after having been shoved over by John.

Usnavi finally looked up. “He wants to talk to me.” He threw a pointed glance at Sonny. “In private.”

“What? Why?” Vanessa wondered aloud, getting rather curious herself.

“I dunno. He didn’t say. But… uh… I guess I’d better go, then.”

“Um, okay then,” John said, looking as perplexed as Usnavi did. Sonny stared back and forth between them, as if he was still waiting for one of them to reveal Pete’s message to him. “I’ll man the… uh… counter.”

“You won’t be mad at me for leaving you two days in a row, right? 'Cause I know yesterday, with that whole running out to Vanessa's place-”

“No, really, it’s fine. Pete’s probably waiting for you.”

“Alright. But when I get back, I’ll make it up to you.”

Vanessa waggled her eyebrows at him, out of sight of John.

“Vacation days,” he clarified, throwing her a pointed glance. “You’ll get vacation days.”

He turned, waved good-bye, pushed his glasses up his nose again, and walked quickly out of the bodega.

The three of them stood in silence for a minute until Sonny spoke up.

“Welp, see ya later.”

“Wait- where’re you goin’?” John asked as he shouldered his backpack and headed for the door.

“To follow Usnavi,” Sonny replied, as if it were obvious.

“Wha- he just said it was a private conversation-”

“Pete won’t answer me all day and suddenly he wants to talk to my cousin in private. Clearly this involves me, so I wanna know,” Sonny said simply.

“I really don’t think you should-”

“Okay, look. If two people are discussing something about you, wouldn’t you want to hear it?”

John crossed his arms. “I think I would let them have their talk, and if there was anythin’ I really needed to know, they’d tell me.”

“And THAT right there,” retorted Sonny with a smirk, “Is why your ass is in here and not out there making out with Usnavi already.”

“Wha- no- I don’t-” John stammered, stepping back.

“Yeah, Pete told me.”

John looked shocked for a moment, looking back and forth between Sonny and Vanessa.

“Oh, don’t worry,” Vanessa assured him, grinning a little. “I knew, too. I kinda figured it out.”

“I can’t _believe_ Pete told you! I told him not to say anything!”

“You should’ve known that telling Pete was the same as telling me,” Sonny replied. “We’re a package deal.”

“Still, I said-”

“Okay, are we going to ignore the fact that the first person John admits his feelings to is _Graffiti Pete?_ ” Vanessa interjected.

“Well, I didn’t, really, he was just there when-” John started, before trailing off and suddenly taking on a horrified expression. “Oh, NO, what if that’s what he’s telling Usnavi right now? Oh god, I’m dead, I’m so dead-”

“Relax, John,” Sonny interjected, but John had already started pacing behind the counter, reminding Vanessa eerily of Usnavi. “Pete knows better than to out you like that. He’s not gonna talk about you.”

“But still, what if the subject comes up, and it just slips out-”

“ _Dude._ Trust me. Keeping secrets is basically Pete’s superpower, you’re fine.”

Though she was preoccupied with John’s problem, Vanessa briefly wondered what the fuck that meant. And then decided she didn’t really want to know.

John stopped pacing, but still looked nervous. “Are you sure?”

“Positive. And in any case, if anything comes up about you, I’ll be there to stop it.” Sonny grinned triumphantly, winked, and turned out the door. "I'll be back with the good stuff!" He called as he ran out, leaving Vanessa and John alone in the bodega.

It was once again quiet, probably because John was still pale from shock and Vanessa was too amused to ruin his expression. Finally, though, John addressed her.

“Wait, how did YOU figure it out?”

Vanessa couldn’t help but grin at his simultaneously confused and scared face. “You spend enough time with the gossip queen of the barrio, and you pick up a few things.”

“Gossip queen of the — OH MY GOD, DANIELA KNOWS?”

Vanessa laughed, trying to placate a once-again pacing John. “No, no she doesn’t. And don’t worry, I’m not gonna out you, either. Your secret’s safe with me.”

 _Because literally everyone I could tell has already figured it out,_ she thought.

“Well, Sonny had no qualms about sharing it,” he muttered, blushing a little.

“Sonny’s different. He only said that because we were in a room with people he trusts.”

“He trusts Usnavi,” John replied, burying his face in his hands.

“Look. If you’re scared about him saying something to Usnavi, you know what you have to do, right?”

“What?”

Vanessa smirked. “Beat him to the punch.”

John rolled his eyes. “No, I can’t.”

 _Hopeless. Absolutely fucking HOPELESS,_ Vanessa thought. “Why can’t you just confront this like a grown-up? Why all this middle-school-secret-crush stuff?”

“It’s just different. One one hand, coming out to my friends is a thing in itself, especially since _no one_ so far has taken it how I thought they would-”

“Wait, your friends don’t take it well? What do they say?” Vanessa felt a bit of anger flare up in her and prepared herself to punch some men in the face.

“No, no, they’re cool. I just tell them and… they already know.”

Vanessa laughed — of course they did. “Are you serious? That’s hilarious. What about Angelica? Did you tell Angelica yet?”

“I did. And she said, ‘congratulations. Ya figured it out.’ And she offered me a cookie.”

“Well, at least they make it easy.”

“But that’s what I mean! Coming out was easy and worthwhile because they made it okay. But if I told Usnavi — If I told him… _you know,_ then I’ll have ruined what we’ve got now, probably forever. He just sorta… came back, so to speak, and _God,_ it made me realize how much I missed him. And I’m not ready to lose the same man twice in one life.”

Vanessa walked right up to the counter and looked John straight in the eye, because maybe then her point would _finally_ get across to one of these boys.

“ _But what if you don’t ruin it?_ What if he feels the same way and you could have MORE than what you have now?”

“Then he would’ve said something by now,” John replied simply, smiling sadly. “The man who always knows what to say would’ve said it. But he hasn’t.”

Vanessa almost threw her hands up in exasperation.

“And I don’t mind, really,” John continued, going over to the fridge. “I didn’t expect him to ever feel that way about me. He’s so… he’s…” John trailed off, smiling softly and slowly stirring the contents of a cup in his hands. After a moment, he looked back down at it, shaking his head. “And I’m just me. His old friend from work with a shitbag of a dad.”

That was it. Vanessa was gonna do it. She was gonna tell him how completely wrong he was. Nothing was ever gonna get done otherwise.

“Here you go,” he said, handing her the cup before she could speak. “Try this and tell me what you think.”

“What is it?” she asked, peering into the brown drink.

“Iced coffee, but without ice so it doesn’t get all watery. Tell me what you think.”

She sipped it slowly, letting the flavors take over her tongue. John’s coffee, unlike Sonny’s slushies, were always a thing of beauty.

“Mmm. It’s cold, but it tastes so… warm. How’d you do this?”

“You wanna know? You wanna finally learn my secret ingredient?”

“Yes,” said Vanessa, leaning closer as he did, too.

He smiled. “Promise not to tell Usnavi anything I said today, and the secret’s yours.”

“It’s cocoa powder,” she smirked, and he straightened up in surprise.

“What? Not-”

“It totally is. It took me a while to recognize, but I got it. It’s definitely cocoa powder.”

John groaned. “I can’t keep a SINGLE secret from you. This is ridiculous. Now my private life is open to me and TWO women.”

“Two? Who’s the other?”

John gave her a look.

“Ah. Angelica. The one I’m totally gonna be friends with.”

He sighed and threw up his hands. “I tried. Let it be known I tried to stop the apocalypse, but it went on anyway.”

Vanessa laughed. “Damn right it did.”

“Just — can you still promise me on the Usnavi thing?”

She sighed. “Fine. But you owe me.”

“Trust me. When y’all take over the world, I will be your servant.”

“I’m holding you to that,” Vanessa replied, pointing at him with the spoon in her coffee. Her phone went off and she pulled it out.

 **Unsaved number**  
_Received:_ Hey V, it’s Angie. Do you want to come over to Laf and Adri’s place? We’re eating (again) and we should talk about this whole ‘take over the world’ business ;)  
**Saved number as Hurricane Angelica**  
_Sent:_ i’d love to. omw with our battle plans  
_Received:_ Excellent. I’ll text you the address.

“Well, I gotta go,” said Vanessa, closing her phone and finishing off her iced coffee. “Thanks for this, it was delicious.”

“Where to?”

“I gotta meet Angelica. We’ve got plans to discuss.”

John shook his head. “Is it too late to tell you not to go?” he pleaded hopefully.

“Yep.” Vanessa grinned, flipped her hair, and strolled out of the bodega.

She heard John sigh and mutter one last thing before the door closed behind her.

“Well, it all goes to shit from here.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hahahaha it's funny because it does ;)


	9. Pete

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Imagine two friends. Best friends," Pete started.  
> "Okay..."  
> "They're real close. They do everything together."  
> "I can imagine that," Sonny said, smiling.  
> "Thing is, one of them likes the other. And doesn't know if he likes him back. What should he do?"  
> Sonny turned to give Pete a concerned look.  
> "You DO know we're dating, don't you?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> dear GOD this took forever to write I'm sorry

Pete sat at his counter and ate breakfast with his dad.

It was _so fucking weird_ to be saying that — he was doing something with his dad. The man who had kicked him out in a drunken rage forever ago was in his apartment eating a bowl of Mini Wheats and making small talk with him like something a normal dad would do.

He’d chalked the night before up to a blip in the universe — just one day where everything just turned upside down for a little bit and then righted itself again, and left everything the same, but different. Usnavi was still Usnavi, a stupid oblivious pancake-flipper that Sonny needed but couldn’t get through to, but now he was also some completely different guy. And Pete’s life was the same life. He was still there for Sonny, who needed it desperately after his world once again fell apart, he still got a little pissed off at Usnavi (okay, maybe a _lot_ pissed off this time) for not seeing how badly his cousin needed him, and he still sucked at anything even remotely domestic (his plans to stick around for breakfast at the De La Vega’s went up in flames about the same time the pancakes did). Except now he was at his apartment. Eating cereal. With his dad.

“So… uh… that kid you went to see this morning... S-Simon, was it?”

“Sonny.”

“Sonny. Right. And he’s… a friend?”

Pete took a moment to chew his cereal and contemplate his next move. On one hand, his dad HAD come here asking for a second chance at life with his son. And because, as he was learning from Sonny, love was about forgiving things that happened in the past and working to fix them, Pete let him in. It could be fixable. They could be normal.

On the OTHER hand, his dad had gotten pissed off when he drew pictures instead of playing with the other kids because “only girls draw pictures.” So he could only imagine what would happen if he told him he was dating a boy.

“Friend. Yeah.”

His dad nodded and took another bite of cereal.

_Fuck it. He’s your DAD. This is the sort of shit kids tell their dads._

“Boyfriend, actually.”

He stopped chewing and blinked incredulously at Pete.

“Boyfriend? As in…”

Pete nodded, giving him a small, almost hopeful smile.

A part of him thought (dare he say wished) his dad would just move on, nod back and smile and take another bite of cereal. The rest of him braced for an explosion.

It never came. Instead, he rubbed his eyes and did that thing only dads do: that run-his-hand-down-his-face thing that ended with him pensively stroking the stubble of his beard.

“Ooookay,” he finally said.

And that was it. No drunken rage. No belt crack. No ‘get the fuck out.’ Pete almost couldn’t believe his own eyes.

“You’re… cool? With that?” he asked slowly.

“Sure. Your apartment, your rules, right?” he replied, giving him a half-smile.

It was Pete’s turn to blink incredulously. That was something his dad always said — “My house, my rules,” the motto of his tyrannical, abusive dictatorship in his old home. Back when his family was still broken. And now he was giving it up; relinquishing. Without a fight. With almost a _smile._

“I guess,” he finally said, smiling back. He took another bite of cereal, and so did his dad.

His dad.

It was weird. But a good weird.

~~~

“Where’s Usnavi?”

Behind the bodega counter, John covered his face and Peggy laughed.

“He stepped out,” explained John.

“He fled,” clarified Peggy, hopping over the counter to Pete’s side. “From John. Saw him and — _nyoom_ — took off.”

“What- why?” Pete asked, looking from Peggy to a rather anguished John.

“I’m _kidding,_ I’m kidding,” she replied, rolling his eyes. “You know that, right, John? John. He didn’t. Run. From. You.”

The man didn’t look very convinced. “Are you sure? ‘Cause that’s the only explanation-”

“Usnavi’s an asshole man who did some asshole things, some of which I’m sure you can remember. He just needed some time to cope with that.”

“So why did he have to run?”

 _More importantly, what kinda asshole things are we talking about here?_ Pete thought curiously.

“Because I gave him a box of letters and now he’s remembering how much he sucks. And he can’t do that properly with someone like you around.”

“Someone like… me?”

“Someone who’s only gonna tell him how much he doesn’t suck.”

John frowned. “What’s wrong with that? Why should I let him wallow in the fact that he sucks?”

“He’s not wallowing in it, you stale peanut, he’s _accepting_ it. He’s finally not denying the fact that he did some shitty things, so he can forgive himself for them.”

John frowned deeper, but stayed silent.

“Well, I should get going,” Peggy continued. “I’d love to hear more about how much Usnavi doesn’t suck, but if I don’t join Angie’s impromptu feminism rally soon I’ll be crashing at Adri’s tonight. I’ll see you-”

“Wait,” John blurted, holding out a hand and biting his lip. “Before you go, I just… I’ve been trying to tell everyone, and since you’re here, I figured I should tell you… and Pete, I guess.”

He suddenly looked nervous, like he was about to reveal a secret. Pete felt a bit uncomfortable to be confided in — after all, this was the first time somebody had revealed anything to him (save for Sonny, of course), but Peggy perked up and turned to face him.

“Yes?”

John bit his lip and cleared his throat.

“So… um… I’m gay.”

On any other day Pete might’ve been surprised at the news, so he might’ve come up with a better reaction than to nod. But this was the day after the world turned upside down. Compared to last night’s earth-shaking, this was a simple tap-dance on the surface. Besides, this was John. The man didn’t exactly scream heterosexual.

“And…” Peggy prompted, as if John was going to continue.

But he didn’t. He just looked confused. “...and that’s it. I’m gay.”

Peggy rolled her eyes. “Water is wet.”

“What?”

“Are we naming fundamental truths here? Water is wet. The sky is blue. John is gay. There. Done.” Peggy raised an eyebrow at him, as if challenging him to say more. When he didn’t, she sighed and grinned at Pete.

“I guess that’s all we get. I mean — yaay! I’m proud of you, John! And we’ll be ready to support you when you have some real news.”

John watched her leave, positively baffled. “What do you mean, REAL news?”

“Like when you’re gonna confess your feelings for a _certain bodega owner!_ ” she smirked over her shoulder and disappeared from view, the bodega bell chiming behind her.

Silence. John looked back and forth from the door to Pete in total silence as Pete took a moment to comprehend what Peggy had just said.

“Haha, um… I don’t know what she-”

“You like Usnavi?” he finally realized.

“Wh- I’m not- I don’t-” John stammered, looking offended. But the redness rising in his cheeks told Pete all he needed to know.

“You DO! Oh shit, this is great!” he laughed, getting closer to the counter.

John sighed, accepting defeat. “Okay, fine. A little bit. Just don’t tell him.”

“How long?”

He gave Pete a skeptical look, as if he wasn’t sure he wanted to answer that question in front of him. Pete was no stranger to that look — the one that told him John refused to trust him, for whatever reason. Usually he’d just give in and mind his own business. But this was different.

“C’mon, man. Someone’s into my boyfriend’s dork of a cousin? This never happens! I gotta know!”

John finally smiled a little and shook his head. “I can’t believe I’m telling this to YOU, of all people.”

“Why NOT me, man! I keep secrets, no one asks me shit, and it’s not like I can judge you or anything. I’m in love with a De La Vega, too, y’know.”

John sighed. “Okay. But — I dunno how long I’ve liked him, really.”

“ _That_ long?”

“No, not — okay, yes. But it’s different.”

Pete waited for John to continue. After one more semi-skeptical glance, he did.

“He was my best friend — even before he came here, he was always my best friend. And I never really felt anything for him, because, y’know, I was into _girls._ Except I wasn’t into them, either. But I was so convinced — I guess it was my dad convincing me — that I couldn’t like him. He wasn’t even an option. But then… but then he died — my dad, not Alex — and he died keeping secrets from me. And I decided, fuck him, I could be someone he doesn’t want me to be. I’m ME. And so I embraced it, and with that came the realization. I guess I always knew I was gay, deep down somewhere. But then, I saw him. And — God, it was like — he was my box. That was the box. He was the box I never opened. And I could finally open up, and let myself go, and understand what I was trying to feel all along, and now I don’t know how I ever _didn’t_ see him that way.” John looked up from the counter suddenly, where he had been tracing circles onto the plasticine marble. “Sorry. I sorta spilled my guts out there.”

Besides that shit with the boxes, though, Pete understood what he was trying to say. And more than that, he knew the feeling. “Sounds more like a little bit of a crush to me.”

John rolled his eyes, staring at his hands. “Well, it’s not. It’s just that. ‘Cause that’s all it can be.”

Pete cocked his head, confused.

“Usnavi’s my best friend. And no matter how I feel, I always want it to be that way. I don’t wanna mess that up.”

Pete usually felt like the dumb one in most conversations, but that statement was even stupider than one he could ever have come up with.

“So you’re not gonna admit any more than a little crush because he’s your best friend.”

“YES! Someone finally gets it.”

“Um- Sonny was my best friend, too. He always was. And he still is. And he will be. It’s just… better now.”

“Wait, so Sonny was your friend before you started dating?”

“My only friend, really.”

“Wait, so you can — SERIOUSLY?”

“Uh… yeah.”

“I’m sorry. I’m new at this whole relationship stuff. But hey, that means you can help me out! How did you — how did you guys get together? What did you do?”

Pete shrugged. “I kissed him.”

The excited look dropped right off John’s face.

“...That’s it?”

Pete thought about that night of the blackout again. “Pretty much.”

“You just… kissed him. No talkin’, no… I dunno, hintin’, you just... straight-up kissed him.”

“Yep. And then he kissed me back. And…” he gestured lamely to the bodega. “Here we are.”

John sighed, putting his head down on the counter.

“Well that’s different, then. Clearly he liked you, too.”

“I guess. But… you never know until you tell him.”

“Or kiss him,” added John dully.

Pete nodded. “Or kiss him.”

“So that’s that. I either kiss him and then he kisses me back or I kiss him and, like any normal person would, he freaks out and never talks to me again and leaves me better off faking my death for the second time in my life.”

Pete thought it over. “Yeah, man. Sometimes it’s a chance you gotta take.”

John sighed again. He’d been sighing quite often lately. “Thanks for the helpful tip.”

“No problem.”

~~~

Pete rapped twice on the window, short and sharp. After a couple seconds of no response, he squatted down to try again when the window pane slid up. He was met with two bright doe eyes and a brilliant grin that made him smile himself.

“Wassup, Sonshine?”

“Hi, there.” Sonny bit his lip and looked back into his room. “You can come in, if you want, but Usnavi’s in a mood and I dunno if you want to test him twice in one day.”

Pete grinned, looking out at the streetlights. “I don’t, really. But it’s a nice night out here.”

“I’m already in my pajamas.”

“It’s also dark. No one’ll see you.”

“Which means it’s cold,” Sonny shot back.

“So bring a blanket.”

He rolled his eyes and smiled before disappearing from view and re-emerging with what seemed like his entire bedspread.

“Fine. You win. But I ain’t leaving the fire escape.”

It took a couple of minutes to move everything through the tiny, one-paneled window and for Sonny to climb through, but quickly enough they were both sitting with their backs against the red brick wall, cozily looking out at the dimly lit barrio.

“You seem better,” Pete said lightly.

“Hm?”

He looked down at Sonny, who was smiling up at the moon, and momentarily forgot what he was talking about. He had that effect on him; the urge to just stop and admire him and maybe kiss him at the corner of his his bright perfect eyes.

“This morning,” he finally said, more to remind himself than for Sonny. “You ‘n Usnavi are good now?”

“Oh, yeah. I told him what I thought and he apologized and promised me he’d be a better cousin and everything. I’m…” He looked up at Pete and gave him that little smile again. “Thank you,” he whispered sincerely. “For making us do that.”

“Anything for you.”

They sat in a comfortable silence once more, content in enjoying the night sky and each others’ company. A chilly wind blew through and Sonny brought his knees up to his chest and hugged them tightly. Pete scooted closer to him to share body heat.

“The pancakes were yours, weren’t they?” Sonny said after a while.

“What?”

“This morning. For breakfast.”

Pete briefly considered lying about his horrible excuse for a breakfast.

“Uh, yeah. Usnavi was in your room and they were kinda alone so I just… did them.”

Sonny laughed shortly. “Shittiest pancakes I’ve ever had.”

 _Shoulda lied,_ he decided.

“But I loved them,” Sonny continued, leaning his head on his shoulder.

“You did?”

“‘Course. You made ‘em.”

An image came to his head just then. It was him making shitty pancakes every morning and Sonny laughing and kissing him on the cheek and eating them anyway. And then every night they could sit like this, with Sonny’s head on his shoulder while they talked about everything and nothing and he could watch the stars dance in his eyes as much as he wanted.

It was a wonderful image, but he shook it away. In any case, Usnavi would flip if he was over at their place that much, anyway.

_Oh. Speaking of Usnavi…_

“I need your advice,” started Pete. Sonny scooted closer, pulling the blanket around them.

“Shoot.”

“Okay. Imagine two friends. Best friends.”

“Okaaaay…”

“They’re real close. They do everything together.”

“I can imagine that,” Sonny said, smiling.

“Thing is, one of them likes the other. And doesn’t know if he likes him back. What would he do?”

Sonny finally took his head off his shoulder to look up at him in concern. “You DO know we’re dating, don’t you?”

“Yes,” Pete laughed, resisting the urge to kiss him, because then he’d forget to talk. “I’m not talking about us.”

“Who, then?”

“Usnavi and John.”

Sonny let out a little gasp and then slapped Pete’s arm. “I _knew_ it! He ALWAYS acts different around John. I thought either he had a crush on him or-”

“No, John likes Usnavi.”

Sonny gasped, louder this time. “JOHN likes-”

“What are you, five?” Pete interrupted, giggling and putting a hand over Sonny’s mouth. “Ain’t no need to tell the whole neighborhood. And Usnavi’s right inside.”

“Sorry,” Sonny whispered, smiling. “But that’s kinda shocking. Somebody has a crush on my cousin. MY cousin.”

“I know, right? But you shoulda heard him going on and on about him. Talking ‘bout boxes or some shit. And then I told him you were my best friend and he asked me for advice on asking a best friend out.”

“What did you say?”

“I told him how I kissed you. And then you kissed me. And now we’re a happy couple.”

“I’m guessing he didn’t take your advice?”

“He shot it down,” Pete agreed, wrapping an arm around Sonny and pulling him closer.

Sonny clicked his tongue, laying his head on Pete’s shoulder again. “He shoulda done it. Usnavi totally would’ve kissed him back.”

“Too bad nobody takes advice from Graffiti Pete.”

“What a travesty. Fun for us, though. We can make it a game. We don’t tell either of them how the other feels and see how long it’ll take them to get their shit together.”

“Oh, this’ll be fun.”

Sonny nodded in agreement. “But I might be graduated from high school before we see anything getting started.”

Pete snorted and they fell into silence again. Sonny took his hand under the blanket and squeezed it once, settling back on the brick wall behind them.

“Oh! I almost forgot!” he started, sitting up again. “How’s life with your dad going?”

Pete grinned. “Good. Better than I thought.”

“Really? He’s not givin’ you a hard time or anything?”

“No. It was kinda weird at first, but he’s… nice. I even told him about you and he was okay with it.”

“ _Seriously?_ ”

“Yeah. He… changed.”

“Wow, Pete, that’s… that’s amazing.”

“Thank you,” he replied, kissing Sonny’s temple softly. “So much.”

“For what?”

“If it wasn’t for you I woulda slammed the door in his face, straight-up told him to fuck off. I never woulda known I could fix things with him. But I learned that from you.”

Sonny gazed up at him.

“You taught me what it’s really like to love someone. I have a dad — _a real dad_ — because of you.”

Maybe it was the moonlight, or something he said, but Sonny almost looked like he was going to cry.

“You okay?”

“I love you,” he whispered simply.

Every time he heard those words was like hearing them for the first time. They made him feel so sure of his place in the world. He belonged right there, right next to Sonny, with his hands entwined in his. He should always be able to feel the million colors pumping out of his heart and coursing through his veins.

He took Sonny’s face in his hands slowly, delicately, and traced a thumb against his skin. Every curve of his cheek, every line of his jaw, every single glint of starlight in his eyes was perfectly fit into place to make him.

And he kissed him slowly, watching his eyelids flutter closed as their lips met.

Pete’s eyes shut as Sonny kissed him deeper. His hand trailed up his neck to run through his hair and Sonny sighed into his lips and his hands dropped to Pete’s waist. He pulled Pete into his lap and held him there by his hips, and he swore the air around them got hotter by a few degrees. Pete tugged at Sonny’s hair and felt a gasp escape his mouth. He almost smiled as he kissed him again, his tongue slipping into his mouth. Knowing Sonny was his felt amazing, but knowing how easily he could make him fall apart felt even better.

He could bite his lip in the way that made Sonny groan and kiss him harder. He could trail his mouth across his jawline, down his neck, and feel Sonny’s fingers tighten around his hips. He could press him against the wall and feel him push back, running a hand down the arch of his spine. And he could keep kissing him and exploring his body and succumbing to the heat rushing through him for as long as he wanted.

Except he couldn’t.

He pulled away, pressing his forehead to Sonny’s and chuckling breathlessly. How nice it felt to have something that made it so hard to go home.

But now he had something that made it hard to stay out, too.

“What is it?” Sonny asked, his gravelly voice barely a whisper.

Out of pure bliss, Pete laughed again and pressed one last lingering kiss to his lips before finally taking his hands away and standing up.

“I gotta go home,” he said, smiling. “My dad’s waiting for me.”

~~~

“Hey, have you seen my phone?” He asked his dad, rummaging through his pants pockets.

“No,” his dad replied, standing up and looking around concernedly. “Did you lose it?”

“I dunno. I swore I put it on the table last night, but it’s not there.” He stuffed his hands in his sweater pocket, but that was empty, too.

“You want me to call it?”

“Okay.”

Pete’s dad pulled out his own phone, dialed a number, and the both of them went around the place, lifting the futon, and checking the bathroom. Not so much as a ring was heard.

“Huh. Well, maybe you lost it somewhere while you were out,” his dad said, pocketing his own phone.

Pete frowned. It seemed unlikely, seeing as he rarely used it, but it was the only possible explanation at this point.

“Yeah, maybe. Well, I’m headin’ out anyway, so I’ll look for it.” He shouldered his backpack after sifting through it one more time.

“Where’re ya headed?” His dad asked, and Pete forgot that this was the sort of information that one disclosed with family members.

“Oh, just to go check out a wall. I got offered a commission there so I’m gonna look it over.”

“Commission?”

“Uh… art. I spray paint.”

His dad looked at him for a second, expressionless. And then, of all things, he laughed. It wasn’t a disbelieving laugh, just a short one; though there seemed to be a bit of an edge to it.

“Oh, sorry. It’s just… you used to draw with crayons and pencils on paper, and you’re still drawing. Except now it’s on walls. With spray paint. With your b- your boyfriend.” He smiled and shook his head. “You… you grew up.”

Those words sent a warm feeling through his chest. _You grew up._ It was something you hear after you stand with your back against the kitchen door frame and your dad gently puts a hand on your shoulder and marks the wall behind you with a pencil. _You grew up._

Pete grinned. “I guess I did.”

His dad smiled his half-grimace back. “Go on, get outta here. If I find your phone, I’ll let you know.”

“I’ll see ya later, dad.”

 _Whew. THAT takes some time getting used to,_ Pete thought as he turned out the door. He smiled to himself again. _I wouldn’t mind getting used to it, though._

He had a while before he really had to be anywhere, so he decided to try and retrace his steps to see if he might have dropped his phone somewhere.

Just as life would have it, the one time he actually needed his phone was the one time it was missing. And he was _sure_ he brought it home; he vividly remembered taking it out of his pocket and putting it on the counter before he went to bed.

But it wasn’t there, and his dad hadn’t seen it either. So he must’ve been remembering another night.

Retracing his steps brought him up to Sonny’s fire escape, back down to the bodega, and to the wall he had been scouting out for his commission.

The store across the street (some hipster coffee shop) was offering money to have the entire expanse of concrete painted something other than a dull grey. Pete had hesitated on taking it just because the task seemed so daunting. It was a gigantic wall, and it directly faced the street. His work was going to have to be perfect and relevant and aesthetically pleasing and everything he usually aimed for when there wasn’t this much pressure.

He stared up at the grey and tried to envision an image big and complex enough to fill the space. Naturally, his mind got the better of him and drifted off, eventually landing on the subject, as it always did, of Sonny.

He remembered his eyes in the moonlight and his soft smile. He remembered envisioning a world where he could fall asleep to that every night. He remembered shutting his eyes but still seeing fireworks against his eyelids when he kissed him.

Okay, yeah, he needed to find that phone. He had someone he needed to get in touch with.

He continued on, wandering aimlessly now. The only place he had yet to revisit was the bodega, but he was getting pretty hungry. Of course, he didn’t have the means to check the time, but judging by the sun’s position in the sky, it was about mid-afternoon.

He considered going to the high school and seeing if Sonny had gotten out yet, but decided it was too risky. If he went in while all the students were filing out, he’d be under pretty strict surveillance by all the security guards. It wasn’t as if he was gonna do something illegal, but he wasn’t feeling up for a random drug search today. He could just see Sonny later.

He turned for home, figuring he could just make something to eat there. _Or,_ a tiny part of his mind offered, _maybe your dad made something for you._

Unfortunately, his dad wasn’t at home. He had a heated-up can of (suspiciously grey, but palatable) soup and rummaged around quickly for his phone (once again, to no avail). It suddenly occurred to him that he had no idea what his dad did all day. Maybe he was shopping, or just reacquainting himself with the city, or meeting up with old friends.

 _Maybe,_ Pete thought, _he’s finding a job. If he’s staying, that’s something he’d do._

He smiled to himself as he packed up his stuff and left once again. Pete used to be afraid of his dad’s job. He always came home angry and irritable and if Pete didn’t tread light enough then it would be a painful night.

But fixed-up dad was different. Fixed-up dad smiled at him and told him he was grown-up and ate breakfast with him in the mornings. Fixed-up dad could come home from work and Pete could ask him about his day and they could have a conversation about what they each did.

He arrived at the bodega, but through the glass window he could see Usnavi and John having a very animated conversation with Vanessa and that Angelica girl he’d met a couple nights ago. They seemed very into it, so he decided he could just go back later when it was quieter.

He wandered down the street again, wondering where the hell else he could’ve left his phone. He _thought_ he’d exhausted all possible options, but there was clearly something he was missing. And it was getting later; he had to find his phone and send that text soon.

He came to a bus stop and sat on the bench, thinking hard. Besides the bodega, he’d checked every single place he had been to yesterday. And he really didn’t think it was in the bodega; that whole thing with John and Peggy the day before was too amusing for him to take his phone out.

Actually, come to think of it, he’d been too preoccupied to use his phone at _all_ the day before.

 _What if it was missing from the day BEFORE yesterday and I just didn’t notice?_ He thought. He went quickly over the events of that day, and remembered texting Sonny because he’d been invited to John’s Shitbag of a Dad party. He’d been in an alley painting, and he put his phone down where he usually did, out of sight from any potential thieves…

And then a cat and its kittens had run past him. He must’ve gotten distracted watching them and left without picking it back up.

 _Yeah, that’s got to be it,_ he thought victoriously, shouldering his backpack and heading down the street.

He had absolutely no memory of leaving the alley without his phone. It seemed very uncharacteristic of him to do something as stupid as leave his phone in the crevice of a building and not remember it for an entire two days. But to be fair, it hadn’t been a normal two days. And if he had remembered leaving it there, well, it wouldn’t be lost in the first place. Besides, there was no other explanation for its disappearance.

He turned a corner and saw a familiar figure emerging from an alley up ahead, glancing around furtively. On instinct, Pete stepped backward to avoid being seen. People could do some serious shit to make sure they didn’t get caught.

He peeked around the corner, squinting hard to try and recognize the figure. His slumped posture looked oddly familiar. With a start, Pete realized it was his _dad._

As he watched, the man turned back into the alley and re-emerged a couple seconds later, heaving a long, thin bag over his shoulder and heading quickly in the opposite direction.

Pete stepped out into the open, studying the oddly-shaped brown sack. Its shape almost seemed body-like. Or like a long, limp rug.

A rug. When he was younger, his dad would take him to rummage in the dump for old furniture and stuff they could take for their house. And here he was doing it for Pete’s apartment, too.

 _Some things never change,_ he thought, shaking his head and continuing down the street. Maybe that’s what his dad did when he was out: scour the streets for more things for their home.

As he passed the alley his dad had come from, a small sound caught his ear. He almost kept walking, knowing better than to peer into dark alleys, but then the sound came again.

He stopped and turned, looking cautiously down the way. There on the ground was a small, dark form. That’s where the sound was coming from, short and soft, almost like _whimpers._

He started forward, almost subconsciously. Every single cell in his brain was screaming at him not to; to follow his cardinal rule and stay the fuck out of suspicious alleys. But something about that form, and those little helpless whimpers it was making, was so inexplicably compelling, and it was slowly drawing him closer.

Then the figure opened its eyes — Pete hadn’t even known it HAD eyes, or that it was facing him. But now that he saw him, his stomach dropped like a stone and he flattened into a dead sprint.

“ _SONNY!_ ”

~~~

“Oh my God,” he whispered, dropping to his knees in front of him. Sonny looked _horrible:_ there was a cut under his eye that was oozing crimson blood, another on his lip, and half his face was purple and already starting to swell up. He was clutching his side with both hands and curled up in a shivering ball.

“Hey. I’m here, Sonny. Shhh, it’s okay. You’re gonna be okay. What — Sonny, _look at me._ ”

He didn’t respond, letting his head loll out of Pete’s hands and gasping short, high-pitched breaths.

“Shh… it’s okay,” he whispered again, grabbing his head gently and turning it towards himself. Sonny’s eyes were glassy and unfocused and Pete knew immediately that he needed medical treatment. Very soon. “Focus. Look at me. What happened? Who did this to you?”

Once again, Sonny didn’t reply, and his head rolled to the side.

But he didn’t need to answer for Pete to know. He hated that he knew. He realized he had already known since he first heard the sounds coming from the alley.

Ignoring the lump forming in his throat, he gently put his arms under Sonny’s neck and legs and lifted him. He reacted almost violently, had he not been so weak, and gasped in pain.

“I know, I’m sorry. But we gotta get you to a hospital.”

In a sudden moment of clarity Sonny grabbed at his arm, looking at him insistently.

“Usnavi,” he breathed.

“Okay, okay, I’ll take you to Usnavi,” Pete murmured, fighting back tears. But Sonny’s eyes had already glazed over and he curled up again.

Pete walked as quickly as he could without jostling Sonny too much, sticking to the sidewalks. The sun was beginning to sink lower and lower to the horizon, so the streets were mercifully empty and traffic-free. The bodega was in his sights when Sonny suddenly fell limp in his arms.

Panicking, he sped up into a half-jog, then a full run. He burst into the bodega, shouting “CALL 911!” and laying him on the counter. John came out from the back, looking panicked and running over to them.

“Oh my God! What happened?”

“Where’s Usnavi?” Pete asked urgently, ignoring his question.

“What — I dunno, he was with YOU!”

“What do you- no he wasn’t!”

“Yes he was! You texted him to meet you! You had to talk to him!”

“No I didn’t, I don’t even have my ph-”

And then it all clicked. His phone had never been lost at all. He knew he had put it on the counter at home because _his dad_ watched him do it.

His dad, he realized, dread pooling in the pit of his stomach. His dad lied to him and said he hadn’t seen it. His dad beat up Sonny and left him for dead. His dad walked out of the alley with a long, limp sack over his shoulder.

Sonny’s insistent eyes, bloodied and bruised, came to him then, and the way he clutched his arm with urgency even on the edge of consciousness.

“ _Usnavi._ ”

He swore and took off in a sprint out of the bodega.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I warned y'all.


	10. George

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> TW for brief hateful language.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> remember when I had the time to update this story twice a week
> 
> hahahahaha good times

George was drinking a soda when his monitor went off urgently, and he nearly spit it out all over his computer. He did spill a significant amount down his front, though, and as he leaned over to check the alert it dripped down onto Benny’s grimy carpet.

 _He IS overdue for a cleaning,_ George thought absentmindedly as he pulled up the screen.

There was a 911 call from the De La Vega Bodega.

“Crap,” he muttered under his breath, jumping up and running out the door.

As he ran out, he realized with a start that he had once made his brother run this same route. And it was a _lot_ more tiring than he’d previously thought.

It also occurred to him that it might’ve been helpful to rent a car; he had figured that with the walking he was going to be doing anyway, he may as well just walk everywhere. Now that he felt his chances of getting home to Martha on time shrinking with every passing second, he regretted that decision.

 _Please let it be something unrelated,_ he prayed desperately as the bodega got closer. _Please let a man have had a heart attack or something right outside. Please let it be Adri going in for more pickles and getting violent when she realizes she ate them all._

No such luck. He yanked open the door to find John nearly hyperventilating and pacing around madly. Mulligan was already there, pressing gauze to the wounds of Usnavi’s little cousin who was lying limp on the counter.

“What happened here? Where’s Usnavi?” He asked urgently. From the look on John’s face, he knew he was in for a rough night.

“I dunno, he went out to meet someone and he never came back and he went to meet Pete and Pete came back without him except he had-”

“Woah, woah, John, _calm down._ We can’t help you if we can’t understand what you’re saying,” George cut in, laying a hand on his shoulder firmly. “Now. Take a deep breath, then I’m gonna ask you one question at a time.”

John took a shaky breath and nodded.

“Where did Usnavi go?”

“He went to meet Pete but-”

“No, no, one question at a time. How long ago was this?”

“I dunno, like ten minutes?”

“Okay. And I gather he never came back. What happened to Sonny?”

“I don't know, Pete brought him in like that-”

“And did Pete say anything about Usnavi?”

“He said he thought Usnavi was here. And I told him that he texted him to meet up and he just swore and ran out.”

George shared a look with Hercules. This was not good. Not good at all.

“Okay, Agent Mulligan,” he addressed him, tossing him a cell locator. “I’m going after Usnavi. You make sure everything’s good here before you come find me.”

“Yessir,” Hercules nodded before returning his attention to Sonny.

“Agent Mulligan,” John repeated blankly.

“Yes. Listen, John. Herc is the field agent I was talking about, the one I put in place here. He’s gonna take care of you, and I’m gonna go and bring Usnavi back, okay?”

He didn’t wait for an answer; his time was already ticking away. He pushed open the door, activated his own cell locator, and followed the signal down the street.

Usnavi's dot on the map, which was supposed to indicate where he was, wasn’t moving. Which was not a good sign. George took all the shortcuts and back roads he could think of, climbing over walls and fences. The signal was straight ahead now, but George could see no one ahead of him. That was an even worse sign.

 _He’s in an alley,_ he thought desperately as his feet pounded the pavement _He’s just around the corner. That’s why you can’t see him. It’s not because he’s lying dead on the ground._

George turned the corner and he was right on the dot, and his stomach sank. There was nobody there. He looked down, and right at his feet, discarded against the building, was a cell phone.

“Shit,” George swore aloud, scanning the streets. He had no way to track him now. He had no way of knowing if Usnavi was even al-

Out of nowhere, a kid appeared across the street and sprinted in the other direction. George squinted at him and recognized the thin figure and loping gait. It was Pete.

George chased after him, struggling to keep him in sight. _He’s got to know where Usnavi is,_ he thought. The kid was running like he had somewhere to be, that was for sure.

He disappeared suddenly behind a concrete building, and George picked up his pace to try and follow him. When he turned the same corner, though, the kid was gone.

He stopped in his tracks, looking around. On one side of the dead-end alley was a low, crumbling brick wall with old cardboard boxes stacked up against it. On the other side, a ten-foot concrete barrier blocked any passage behind the building.

And then he heard the shouting.

It was coming from the left side; the side with the concrete barrier. _Of course it is,_ he thought, running up to it. It was too high to jump and reach the top, and the gaps on either side were two inches wide, far too thin to squeeze through even in his former years.

 _How the hell?_ If this all ended well, he was gonna consider picking up Pete for the agency. There were no footholds, no platforms to jump from, no ladders, nothing. And yet the kid had somehow scaled this wall in a matter of seconds. His voice rang out clearly from the other side.

“Why the hell did you come back?”

“For _him,_ dumbass. Jeez, I knew you were stupid, I didn’t know it was this bad.”

That was a different, cold, unfamiliar voice.

“Why do you need him so much?”

“I don’t, really. My employer does.”

George froze and listened hard.

“Your employ-”

“ _Mind your own damn business._ Now I suggest you get outta here, while ya still got your head.” There was an unmistakable click of a gun. Instinctively, George put a hand on his own. He looked around frantically; he had to get over this wall. And soon.

“Dad, I don’t get why you can’t just-”

“Oh, again with the- STOP FUCKIN’ CALLING ME DAD! It’s bad enough that I had to come back and deal with your sorry ass. I ain’t _shit_ for you no more, understand?”

The cardboard boxes were too flimsy to use as step stools. George stepped right through them — but then, he realized that he could scale the brick wall easily.

Pete's voice rang out again. “Why did I ever let you in my house! I shoulda just dumped you out in the street like you did to me-”

“Yeah, but you were too fuckin’ weak to do it. I _know_ you, Pete. I know people like you.”

The jump from the brick wall to the concrete barrier was a solid 20 feet. The jump to the window sill on the backing building, however, was doable.

“People like me? Who the fuck do you think I am?”

“You’re a pussy-ass bitch that spends his time drawing rainbows on walls who can’t even think for himself. He needs a _daddy_ but can’t understand he don’t deserve one, so he tries to find one in the other kids on the street-”

“Shut up.”

George was three window sills closer to the barrier, five more to go. He was going as quick as he could, but each one was barely four inches wide and he was a good 12 feet off the ground.

“Look at that there. So stupid you can’t even accept it. You made it so easy, Pete, I just had to come back and spout some shit about being a good dad and you let me right in. I don’t know how the fuck I even raised someone like you.”

“You didn’t, that’s how. You think you raised me? What did you ever do that was ever close to being fatherly?”

“Oh, so you’re gonna be stupid AND ungrateful now, huh?”

George was on the last sill, took a deep breath, and leapt onto the barrier.

“I LIVED ON MY OWN! YOU KICKED ME OUT OF THE FUCKING HOUSE!”

George ducked low as he surveyed the scene. Pete stood with his back to the barrier. The area was enclosed by three other buildings; it was essentially a concrete pit. On the other side of the space was Pete’s dad, the same guy from the surveillance camera, and behind him, a large brown body bag.

Usnavi.

Merino Espinoza had a pistol in one hand, and as Pete yelled at him, he snarled and raised it. As inconspicuously as he could, George took his own from his belt, cocked it, and aimed.

“Okay, I’ve _had_ it with you. I gave you a chance to get the hell out, but you just stood here and insulted me like a fuckin’ idiot. I shoulda done this a long time ago, taken care of you like I took care of your little fuckin' homo boyf-”

“AAAAAAHHHH!” Pete roared, and before George could shoot, he had tackled the other man, struggling to reach of the pistol in his hand. He couldn’t get a clear shot without risking Pete’s life, so all George could do was crouch there and aim, mentally urging him to roll over, or stand up, or do something.

A hand came up and got Pete right in the face, but he was either really tough or couldn’t move, because he didn’t even flinch. He just slammed his hand down on his dad’s wrist, nearly forcing the gun out of his hand. Instead, though, his dad twisted his wrist and turned his torso, shoving Pete off of him, turned the gun right at his head, and-

George fired.

At first he was terrified he’d hit the kid, because he rolled off his dad, clutching his stomach. George jumped off the barrier and into the pit. But then he noticed Merino lying limp, with a thick red pool of blood pooling where his head touched the ground. He kicked the pistol as far away from his hand as he could. As he did, Pete scrambled to his feet, and backed away, still clutching his stomach.

“You okay, kid?”

Pete didn’t answer, but stared blankly back. He almost looked afraid.

“Oh, right,” he muttered to himself, realizing how scary he must’ve looked jumping in out of nowhere and shooting this guy’s dad in the head. Carefully, he lowered his gun, putting it at his feet, and held up his hands in a gesture of peace.

“There. I’m not gonna hurt you, okay? I just need to know you’re alright. It’s… Pete, right?”

Pete blinked a couple more times and then shook his head. “Um… yes, sir. I’m fine.”

“You sure? Your stomach okay?”

“He just kicked it, it’s aight," Pete replied quietly, finally lowering his hands. As his hands went down, so did his eyes, and they landed on his dad’s head and the redness that was now staining his grey sweatshirt.

“Sorry, Pete. If I didn’t have to kill your dad, I wouldn’t’ve.”

“N-no, sir, it’s okay. He-” Pete swallowed and looked down at his own shoes. “He wasn’t really my dad anyway.”

George gave him a sympathetic smile. He understood what it was like to have an absent father; his dad was _definitely_ not this bad, but he was a man who was only a dad to good kids. It took a lot of fighting and sweat and blood to finally get the status and the attention from him.

“Y’know what? It doesn’t matter, because you have a whole family that loves you back home, and they’ll all be glad to see you’re okay. So let’s just take Usnavi and get back to them, shall we?”

Pete nodded. George chuckled.

“And once everything is okay, we’re gonna talk about how you scaled that wall.”

Pete looked up and was about to say something when he froze, staring at something past George.

George whipped around, and there was another man standing next to Usnavi and holding the kicked-away gun in his hands. A rusted utility door in the corner was now swung open; George had no idea how the man had been able to get through without making a sound.  
He flicked his eyes up at him and George recognized the face and the slightly hunched posture. His blood ran cold.

“Good afternoon, Mr. Washington. I’m afraid I cannot let you take this man.” His voice was steady, but George heard a faint tremor behind it.

“Burr?”

Aaron Burr raised a slightly shaking arm, and George was staring right into the barrel of a pistol.

His own gun was right at his feet, resting against his shoes. But there was no way of reaching it without triggering his former soldier.

Suddenly all George could feel were his fingers.

Then his toes, and his elbows, and then the tips of his ears. He felt his entire body; felt his lungs inflating with every breath, felt his heart beat against his chest. And it suddenly occurred to him how very _trapped_ he was; not in this concrete pit with sticky blood oozing into his left shoe staring down the barrel of a loaded gun, but in his own skin. His body, which could climb walls and balance on window sills and run through an entire city and shoot down a man with a target the size of a quarter from 50 feet away, was also his prison. Given the choice, right now and right here, he wouldn’t be in it.

Given the choice, he would fly out of his skin and go visit every single soldier and agent who had ever fought for him and tell them that his entire life’s work rested on the laurels of their service. He would thank them profusely and give them everything they could never have because of the sacrifices they made for him. If he could, he would be with Martha and just exist there without all the tiredness and soreness and coffee and newspapers in his hands, and he would give her a proper kiss and a hug for as long as he wanted. He would find his father and thank him for his support and attention but tell him that he had another son who deserved just as much, if not more, attention than he did. And he would go to California and find Benny and tell him how sorry he was and how much he loved him and how proud he was to call him his brother.

Then there was a bang, a white flash, two hands clutching his arm, and he wasn’t trapped anymore.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welp


	11. Sonny

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sonny wakes up in time to assess the damage. Or, rather, he tries to.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> an update? completed in a reasonable amount of time? wow who am i

There was ice running through his veins.

That’s the first thing Sonny thought when he came to. It was really, really cold in his body. He looked around blearily. There was a seemingly humanlike figure standing in the corner. But that didn’t explain the cold. A dull throbbing in his arms emerged in his senses. He looked down. There was a needle stuck in his arm. Well, problem solved. He went back to sleep.

The next time he awoke, the world opened a little wider. He could hear now, and suddenly his world was a rush of beeping and clicking and whirring. If he blinked really quickly his vision could clear for a few seconds at a time, and he looked around.

He heard voices. “I’m sorry, he’s still very unstable, visiting is limited to immediate family only-”

“He doesn’t HAVE immediate family! That’s why there’s no one in there, you chicken fucknugget! WE’RE his family!”

He blinked rapidly a couple times and was able to see through a window. A haggard-looking man in a white coat was talking to three women. One of them was Vanessa.

_Ehehehehehe._

Vanessa yelling at a man. That seemed familiar.

Contented, he closed his eyes again.

The third time waking up was much worse than the first two, because whatever contented bliss that had slipped over him lifted off, and it _hurt._ He remembered Usnavi wandering around in the alley and a baseball bat flying out of nowhere. He remembered Pete’s dad hauling his cousin into a sack. He remembered rushing out to stop him and seeing his look of rage and _oh Jesus,_ did he remember the pain.

And he felt it all over — his ribs, his face, his head, his bones, every time he _breathed,_ fire licked at his insides.

He groaned, and immediately heard the scraping of a chair and footsteps, and there was a face in his face.

“Good to see you awake! How are you?” an unfamiliar voice said. “I know you probably hurt. We just took you off the respirator and the anesthetic, so it’s gonna feel like this for a while longer.”

“Where am I? Where’s Usnavi?” he croaked, feeling the words almost gurgle out of his mouth. God, his throat hurt.

“Shhh. You’re in the hospital, we’re taking care of you. Don’t worry.”

“Where’s Usnavi?” he repeated.

“Usnavi- um, I don’t know an Usnavi. D’you want me to go ask for him?”

“No,” Sonny insisted. “I have to — he’s in trouble-”

He squirmed to get up and felt something rip at his side.

“Aaah! No- please, just stay still, you’re gonna- _dammit._ ”

The woman pushed him down and he felt something warm and sticky on his shirt. Or gown, because he looked down and that’s what he was wearing. And the sticky stuff was blood.

The lady, who must’ve been a nurse, ran to a little cart, snapped on gloves, and came back to press some gauze at his side.

“Do me a favor and hold that there, and _don’t move,_ ” she instructed him. “I’m gonna get the doctor. Hold that there!”

She ran out, and it was quiet again, save for the beeping. Sonny held his gauze in place. Here he was, powerless, holding his own insides to stop them from becoming outsides, while Usnavi was somewhere out there, probably with the man out to kill him. He needed to NOT be there, he needed to make things better, he needed to feel like he wasn’t lying in a hospital bed with his hands on his own blood, he needed to…

He needed to pass out. And so he did.

When he came to again, he did so almost violently. Partly because he hurt so much and partly because there was a very frantic voice in his doorway.

“How is he?” He recognized John’s voice.

“Sir, please-” That was definitely the doctor. The voice seemed to float around all the time when he was unconscious.

“Look. If you’re waiting for someone who’s family to tell, don’t hold your breath. I’m pretty much the only family he’s got here. Please, I need to know.”

The doctor sighed. “I’m afraid he’s not too well. He’s suffered significant blood loss, he’s receiving a transfusion as we speak. There were also several internal contusions that we’re keeping an eye on, but they don’t seem to be getting better on their own. And our main problem is the cracked rib, where he was struck, and the localized sepsis. If that spreads we’ve got a major problem on our hands.

“Will he… will he live?” John asked hesitantly, his voice cracking at the end.

“He’s… I- I cannot give you a definite answer just yet. The thing is, we can’t put him on antibiotics for the infection, because then it’d attack his organs and further the damage. We can’t operate on him, either, because he’s allergic to anesthetic and the trauma from an open surgery may very will kill him. We’ve got him on 24/7 ICU care, but I’m afraid there’s not much more we can do.”

John’s voice was very small and shaky. It made Sonny’s stomach turn. “So that’s it… you’re just gonna stand around and watch him die.”

“There is a small chance he can fight the infection on his own. If he makes it through the night, his chances will significantly improve. But…” the doctor sighed heavily again. “That’s a lot to ask of him.”

There was a heavy silence. Sonny couldn’t believe what he was hearing. He was going to die? He hurt, sure, but he didn’t feel that bad. No, he could fight this. He could get better. He _had_ to.

“Can we move him?” John’s voice came again. He sounded on the verge of tears.

“I don’t see why not,” the doctor replied gently. It was the kind of tone that indicated that it didn’t matter what they did with him, seeing as he was going downhill either way.

_Well, fuck you. I’m living._

“Thank you,” John half-said, half-whispered. There was a pause and footsteps before he heard the sound of a wooden chair against the floor.

It was then that Sonny realized his eyes were still closed. And he couldn’t open them.

Perhaps living might be harder than he anticipated.

“Please,” he heard John whisper to himself. “You gotta get through this. All you gotta do is stay alive for the night.”

_I will, John. I will. I’m too afraid of death to let it come that easily._

“You’re tough, I know you can.”

_I am. And if I get through this you never get to call me a baby again._

“And I- I know that what happened… I know you might not want to face the world again. But you have to do it. If you can’t do it for you, do it for Sonny.”

Sonny did a double-take.

_Wait, what? Who are you talking to? Am I... am I not the one dying?_

“He needs you. He can’t go through this without… without both-” John’s voice cracked and Sonny heard a sharp sob.

It took a colossal amount of effort, but Sonny was able to force his eyelids to open and stay that way. He looked down and there was John at the foot of his bed, sitting in a wooden hospital chair with his face buried in his hands.

 _John,_ he asked him urgently, though his lips couldn’t move. _Who? Who’s dying? Is it Usnavi? John, LOOK AT ME!_

With another monumental effort, Sonny managed to produce the smallest of noises from the depths of his throat.

John’s head shot up and he finally saw him conscious and awake.

“Oh, Sonny-” he murmured, standing up and walking toward him. His eyes, he noticed, were bloodshot and puffy, like he’d been crying all night.

“I’m so sorry.”

John put a hand on his forehead, then stroked his hair gently, stopping every now and then to wipe a tear from his cheeks.

 _Answer my question,_ thought Sonny forcefully, knowing full well he was incapable of asking one. Just keeping his eyes open was getting tiring, and he found that blinking was becoming more and more like lifting sandbags with his eyelids.

“They put you on tranquilizers,” John continued softly. “Just for a couple hours. So you won’t move and rip your stitches again.”

So that explained a whole lot about why he couldn’t move, but not about what Sonny really needed to know.

“You’re gonna be fine, okay? I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry.” John’s voice cracked again and he looked up at the ceiling, as if he could pull the tears back into his eyes.

“He’s comin’,” John whispered, putting a hand on Sonny’s own. “You’ll see him in a bit. I asked them to bring him in here.”

_Don’t you DARE play this fucking pronoun game with me, John. Tell me who’s dying. Tell me who. Who. WHO!_

But try as he might, John didn’t hear him. “Get some rest,” he said gently. “This is… this is the time to be strong, y’hear? We’re gonna-” another voice break- “we’re gonna get through this.”

John attempted a watery smile, squeezed his hand, and walked out.

Sonny almost felt like he was going to cry himself before the drugs pulled him back under.

~~~

When he awoke, everything was different. The sky out of the little window was darker, and he could move much easier. There was also a new set of noises: two sets of beeping instead of one, a new whirring sound, and the periodic rush of air down a tube.

He turned his head, and there was another hospital bed next to him.

Six or seven huge machines surrounded it, with tubes and wires running everywhere. He could barely even see a person lying there under all of it, much less make out who he was.

“You’re awake,” a man’s voice sounded. Sonny turned his head to the visitor’s chair, where a broad-shouldered, dark-skinned man sat. Sonny recognized him as one of Usnavi’s old friends, but for the life of him couldn’t remember his name.

“I’m Agent Mulligan,” he said, as if reading Sonny’s mind. He sounded tired, worn-down; it was as if he, too, had just been pumped full of tranquilizing drugs. “Usnavi’s new field agent. I’m guessing you probably wanna know what’s happening.”

Sonny’s mouth felt like it was full of cotton, and considering the shit they’d already done to him, he wouldn’t have been surprised if it was. He just nodded, looking back at the tubed man.

“You’ve been here for about five hours, but you’ll be fine. You got beat up pretty bad, broke a rib, busted a cheekbone, minor concussion, ripped up your side pretty bad, but nothing major.”

“Who’s that?” Sonny croaked, surprised to find that there was, in fact, nothing in his mouth except for his own tongue.

Agent Mulligan sighed and stood up, walking over to his bedside.

“Pete got shot trying to save your cousin.”

He took back everything. He didn’t want to know. He didn’t need to know. That wasn’t Pete, that was a stranger. Pete wasn’t dying in the bed next to him, he was fine. He was painting a wall somewhere, taking advantage of the moonlight.

“I’m so sorry,” Mulligan said softly, and Sonny realized that tears were blurring his vision. He turned to the man — Pete — surrounded by tubes and whirring machines and felt his world fall around him.

“Sonny.” Agent Mulligan murmured again. “I know. It’s hard. Let it out.”

He would have. He would have cried if his throat wasn’t so dry. He would have cried if he felt like crying, but he didn’t.

There’s a grief beyond all action, a grief that doesn’t flood you with emotions, but instead takes them all away. It’s a grief that leaves no space for regret, no space for tears or guilt or sadness, no space at all except for all the empty space in the world.

“Then where’s Usnavi?” he asked, unafraid of the answer. How could he be, when he had no capacity for fear?

Mulligan looked him straight in the eye and shook his head.

“Usnavi’s gone. They took him.”

Usnavi was gone, Pete was going, and Sonny was empty.

He turned his head to look back at Pete, covered in tubes and wires and beeping machines.

 _You hold on,_ Pete had once said. It was a long, long time ago, one summer in middle school when they were dicking around and Pete pushed him into a pool before Sonny learned how to swim. He had been struggling and panicking because he couldn’t keep his head above water, so Pete had dived in after him. _You hold onto me and you let go of everything else, okay? We’re gonna go under, but I promise if you let go you’ll come back up._

Sonny reached his hand out to the other bed.

Wordlessly, Mulligan walked around and rolled the machines out of the way one by one. He pushed whatever tubes he could away from Pete’s face, just enough so that Sonny could see his closed eyelids, and rolled the bed closer to him.

Gently, he took Pete’s hand and put it in Sonny’s.

And Sonny held on.

He held on and let go of everything else.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> w e l p


	12. Burr

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aaron Burr's day has come.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The other day I got my essay back and my teacher was like "you're an excellent writer, you should consider writing more, I'd love to read that" and I was like lololol no you don't

Burr was pulling his car in when he heard the gunshot.

_I swear,_ he thought angrily, _M better not have just shot Alexander._ Burr’s verbatim instructions were “meet me inside the concrete pit, with the man, _alive._ ” Still, M definitely had the guts to kill him. The man’s lack of empathy unnerved him sometimes. He’d do things that Burr wouldn’t have even dreamed of — and he _enjoyed_ them. It was sickening.

He quietly slipped into the building in the abandoned part of the city. He had to remember to ask M how he’d found this place, because it certainly hadn’t been easy to get to with his car. He pushed open the old utilities door slowly, wincing when it creaked a little.

He froze in the shadows. In the barricaded alley were two men talking over what was definitely a body. It was M’s body.

He squinted at them, trying to recognize the faces. One of the men was unmistakably his former boss, George Washington. The other was clutching his stomach, but his posture and his build reminded him very much of the now-dead M.

Burr quickly formulated a new plan to stay concealed and regroup once these people left. They had what they wanted; they surely wouldn't stick around much longer. But then, out of the corner of his eye, he saw the bag.

_Alexander._

He was right there. All of this could end if he could grab that bag and get out. His peace, Theodosia’s happiness, was lying _two feet away._

“So let’s go grab Usnavi and get out of here, huh?”

Oh, no. No, they were _not_ taking him away again. This man was NOT escaping death three times. Burr looked around frantically, and realized a pistol lay at his feet.

It was M’s, glinting menacingly in the shadow of the building. Burr recoiled just looking at it, but even then what he needed to do was clear.

He gingerly stepped into the alley, picked it up, and held it between his fingers. It was already cocked and loaded, as if telling him that he had no choice in the matter.

He realized with a start that the voices had ceased, and looked up. Both men were staring at him.

“Good afternoon, Mr. Washington,” he said, trying to keep his voice even. “I’m afraid I cannot let you take this man.”

“Burr?”

As he raised the gun, he could feel his hand shaking.

Burr had a general rule for doing things he really didn’t want to do. He’d pick a number, count to it, and then do it. When he hit the last number, the task would be done, and life would go on.

_Five. You’ll count to five, and your boss will be dead._

One.

_Here’s George Washington, a man who treated everybody with no less than the respect they deserved._

Two.

_I’ve met his wife. I’ll see her, when he dies. The look on her face. She’ll haunt me._

Three.

_Here is the best general the army’s ever seen, the leader of our country, the head of an agency that saves millions of lives every day. And he’s going to die because he tried to save one more._

Four.

_But he can’t have this one._

Five.

The shot rang out, and as much as Burr could’ve braced for it, he would never be used to the aftermath of the bullet. George fell backward, but the other man ran to catch him. Still, he collapsed to the ground with that same thump. Burr couldn’t look at them. He turned to Alexander quickly, heaving the brown bag over his shoulder, and picked up the pistol again.

“Sir, please,” the other man pleaded shakily, and Burr turned to look at him. He was standing now, right between the bodies of M and Washington.

“Let him go. Let him go and I won’t tell about any of this. You’ll walk away free, I swear. Just put him down and- and-”

He realized with a start that this dude was M’s son. He had the same tone, the same eyes, and the same build.

But they were different somehow, too. This one wasn’t as cold and calculating, there was a naïvety in the way he spoke. He was shaking, and pleading, and appealing to Burr’s common sense. Hoping for a compromise, as if Burr could give that up. He was _just a kid._

A kid, he realized, his heart sinking to his knees, who was going to die, too. Because Burr couldn’t compromise now. Not on this.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, raising the pistol. “I can’t. And you can’t know.”

He gave himself up until the number three.

One.

This was going to be another faceless murder, another life cut short. It was the ones without faces that haunted him the most.

Two.

He squeezed his eyes shut.

Three.

~~~

His hands shook on the steering wheel and he took a breath to calm himself. There was no use coming all this way and stopping now because he wrecked his car or something.

The pleading and gunshots and the thuds of bodies echoing in the concrete square still rang out around him, and he knew they always would. He would never be the whole, perfect father that Theo deserved. But if he finished this job, at least the path to her own happiness would be clear.

_That’s all it is,_ Burr thought as he turned through the empty streets of the neighborhood. _A job. An obligation. You don’t kill people, you get through obstacles._

Obstacles that once lived and loved, but can’t do any of that anymore.

_They’re just obstacles._

The drive to his next location was just about a half an hour if he followed the speed limit. He decided to call his neighbor who was taking care of Theo until he got back. Hearing his daughter’s voice always helped calm him down.

Before he could reach for his phone, though, blue lights appeared ahead. He felt his heartbeat quicken as he avoided making eye contact with the police cruiser. This was the last thing he needed right now, to get stopped and searched by the authorities.

_Relax, you haven’t done anything worthy of being pulled over,_ he thought, until the officer clearly signaled him to do so.

Hands shaking, he obeyed, and dutifully readied his drivers’ license and registration papers. He didn’t need a fake ID for these sorts of jobs; Aaron Burr, as far as anyone knew, didn’t even have a parking ticket to his name.

Which was somehow worse. There was no alter ego he could hide behind, no other identity on which to blame the things he’d done. It was all unmistakably him.

“Good evening, sir,” the officer said, leaning on his window sill casually.

“Hello,” replied Burr calmly, but realized the tremor in his voice was evident.

“You’re not in trouble, in case you were wondering, but I pulled you over because I got a call reporting gunshots in the area you just came from. Know anything about that?”

It suddenly occurred to Burr that his own gun was on the side of the door. If the officer were to even cast a downward glance, he would notice the butt sticking out in easy reach of the driver.

And Burr could, in less than a second, have that gun aimed at his head; have him dead in a heartbeat. He could be back on his way, with another obstacle behind him.

But that meant he had to live with another man dying by his hand. He had to watch another family break down on TV, unable to tear his eyes away from the damage he’d caused.

“Um, no,” he lied, his voice shaking even more. “I don’t know anything about them, but I was driving through on my way home when I heard them.”

He made sure his eyes didn’t cast even a fraction of a glance down at his door.

“Alright,” the officer replied. “You happen to see any people in the area?”

This man was going to make him give a statement. He was going to make him stop and stand outside while Alexander slowly came to and started to bang on the trunk of his car.

“No, the streets were empty when I heard the shots, and I got out of there before I could see anyone.” Burr replied, taking a nervous glance behind him for good measure.

The officer nodded. “Right. Well, you get on outta here, and don’t you worry. We’ll figure this out and you’ll be safe by morning.”

Burr took a moment to appreciate the truth in that statement. He’d be safe by morning.

“Thank you, sir.”

“No problem. You have a good night, now.”

And Burr was off again, perhaps a little quicker than he should’ve gone, but the officer paid him no mind.

Soon he turned out and was on the main streets, blended in among the other commuters with nothing on their mind except getting home. He picked up his cell phone and dialed his neighbor’s number.

She picked up on the third ring. “Hey Aaron! What’s up?”

“Hello, Kelly. Just checking in to make sure everything’s going okay.”

“Oh, of course! We’re just starting dinner now. We’re having make-your-own-tacos! It always amazes me how much little Theo loves her vegetables. Will LOATHES them, but she’s just piling them up!”

Kelly was a younger mom with a son the same age as Theo, which was convenient because Burr could just drop Theo off with her whenever he had somewhere to be and she didn’t have preschool or daycare.

“Yep. Her favorite is green beans. I don’t know where she gets it from. Certainly not me.”

“Haha, must’ve been from her mother,” Kelly laughed. “Did you want to say hi to her?”

“If it’s not too much trouble?”

“Of course not! Give me a minute.”

There was a faint banging and scraping sound on the other end of the line, as if she got out of a chair and walked somewhere else. Then there was a bright voice in his ear.

“Hi, daddy!”

“Hi, Theo. How are you doing? Are you having fun?”

“Yeah! We made tacos. And then we’re gonna watch Finding Meemo!”

“Finding Nemo?” Burr asked, chuckling.

“Yeah! And then auntie Kelly said she would make popcorn!”

“That sounds _awesome._ ”

She giggled. “You can come, too! Auntie Kelly said you’re always invited. You can sit right next to me.”

“Maybe I will, Theo. I have to finish up here first. And then I can make you popcorn and we can watch as many movies as you want.”

“Okay,” she said happily. “I love you, daddy.”

That was all the reminder he needed to keep on driving down to the New Jersey exit and take a right onto the quiet streets.

“I love you, too, Theo. Now go, eat your tacos.”

She giggled again. “Byebye.”

He smiled, hung up the phone, took a deep breath, and pulled into the park at Weehawken.

~~~

Burr had parked the car, put his gun in his waistband, carried Alexander out of the trunk and gotten him halfway across the field before the man came to.

And he knew he came to because he started kicking.

He kicked and punched and squirmed, and M must’ve put a gag in his mouth or something because he heard shouts coming from the bag but they were extremely muffled.

He dropped him unceremoniously on the ground in front of an old tree stump — and the struggling stopped for barely a second before it started up again. Burr almost had to throw his entire body over the man in order to wrestle him out of the bag. He finally pulled it over his head and found himself face-to-face with… _a fucking stranger._

Rage filled him for a second as he stared at the disheveled guy. His hair was cut short, much shorter than Alexander’s telltale greasy ponytail. His eyes were squeezed shut behind a thick pair of round glasses and there was a large knot right on his eyebrow where Espinoza probably hit him.

_How could he have gotten the wrong guy? After all this time, I got THIS far, only to be left with-_

And then the stranger opened his eyes and his rage dissipated. Those were unmistakably Alexander’s eyes. They had the same intensity, and tenacity, and ambition beyond reason. The tired bags under them, which had been contorted out of recognition by his previous expression, were now evident.

His small but wiry stature was the same. The ferocity of his struggle to break free of the bag was the same. And when his eyes, which were filled with fear, finally widened with recognition, Burr knew he had the right man.

“Alexander.”

He didn’t respond, probably because the gag still filled his mouth. Ropes fell in a tangle around his wrists and ankles, keeping him in a pile on the ground.

Shaking, Burr pulled his gun from his waistband. He'd always imagined this day coming, but had never known what to say when it finally came.

“You’ve come to die. And you must understand it’s only because you have to.”

Alexander did not speak. He did not move. The only way Burr knew he was even comprehending the situation was by reading the fear in his eyes.

He took a step backward. “You know of the actions that have led you to this, don’t you? This fate is just the long-delayed consequence of your life’s work. It’s terribly simple; in order for me, and a number of other people, to be able to move on, you must go.”

Still, Alexander did not move.

He took a couple more backward strides. He was not afraid of this man, not when he held a gun to his head and his mouth was bound by cloth, but he was admittedly afraid of death. He was afraid of the moment when the life would leave Alexander’s body; afraid that if he stood too close, death would take him, too.

It eventually would, he knew that. The unstoppable force of death takes whomever it so desires, whenever it deems them ready for the taking.

The only person he’d ever known to refuse it was kneeling in front of him.

_But he cannot refuse it again. That, you can make sure of. Death will find us one day in the far future, but the path will be cleared from tonight._

And the path was more clear than it had ever been. He was right there. All there was left to do was aim, pull the trigger, and watch him die.

_You’ve got ten. Count to ten, and it’s over._

One.

_All he needed to do was admit he was wrong. Just once, let go of his pride. And he couldn’t. He could’ve been having a grand old time with his friends and family right now, but he’s not. He’s here._

Two.

_I wonder if he’s thinking about his family. About going back to them. Eliza was so good to him. Philip… Philip could’ve grown up to be a wonderful son. Brilliant like his father, yet compassionate like his mother. I may have killed a great man in his infancy._

Three.

_I killed a LOT of great men. And bad men, too, probably. They’re all gone because of me. Countless families and friends and children mourn and cry and despair over the great people I've killed. Yes, you’ve done unforgivable things. But tonight, all that is over. All that is over._

Four.

_Your hands are shaking. The last thing you need is for your shaky hands to make you miss this shot. Squeeze them tighter, so they’re steady. Don’t squeeze the trigger. Not yet._

Five.

_Should I close my eyes? No. You can’t close your eyes. You must make sure this time he goes, it’s final. Permanent. You must watch death take him._

Six.

_Take a deep breath. You’ve fought in a war, Burr. You know where to aim. Summon all the courage you need. Show him you’re not backing down from him again. Look him straight in the eye._

Seven.

_He’s got that look. It’s the Alexander look. It’s the look that says ‘I’m not relenting, I’m never backing down. I’m doing what it takes to survive and prosper, even if that means I have to take you down.’_

Eight.

_That’s why he’s wearing the glasses. So I can see his eyes, so I can witness the fact that he didn’t back down until the end. So he can take deadly aim with the only weapon he ever needed._

Nine.

_You cannot back down from him again, Burr. You’ve got to watch him give up his power. If not for you, for Theo. All of this is for her. Don’t you DARE let her down again. You WILL pull this trigger. You WILL CLEAR THE WAY FOR HER!_

Ten.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> W E L P
> 
>  
> 
> And that's it for this series! I hope you really enjoyed it and I'm th-  
> LOL PSYCH but wouldn't it be funny if I ended this story like this?


	13. Alexander

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alexander finds himself alone in his last moments as Alexander. Turns out, he doesn't have much left to say.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Who else can relate to Alexander because of finals lmaooo
> 
> ...too soon?

_Death is a lot quieter than I expected it to be._

_I don’t quite know exactly what I expected. I guess since I technically DID die, it’s really more of a memory than speculation, But that time was different. I don’t remember dying, I remember desperately trying NOT to. I remember pain and fear and chaos because I was fighting for my life._

_But here, facing down the gun and the man are about to be the cause of my actual death, it’s… quiet._

_Maybe because I accept it._

_Burr, I remember you. It took me a while, but I finally do. You were one of the first friends I made when I moved to the States. And now you’re the last face I’ll ever see._

_What happened in between? What did I do for it to end up like this? I was an asshole, sure, that much is clear. And I know my ambition made me a lot of enemies. But I can’t remember doing anything so particularly bad to you that you were left with no choice to make sure I died._

_Well, whatever it was, I never did value it as much as you did. I suppose when I’m focused ahead of me, I forget about the people I brush to the side. Still, now this one person I thought was insignificant is going to be the ender of my life. The keeper of my story._

_You’re looking at me. Straight at me. And I’ve got to stare back. All my life’s work: the war, my work in the treasury, Washington’s administration, the bodega, that’ll nothing when I’m gone. New people will come in and build over what we’ve created. Some white man bent on gentrification will buy out my store and use it to sell loans or something. But this — me not backing down, even when I stare down death — this is what’s going to stick. This is what you’re going to remember most when I’m finally gone._

_This is my legacy._

_Do I want it to be?_

_I guess that’s up to me to decide. Do I want to be the non-stop fighter that everyone sees in me? Do I want to be known as a man so driven by ambition and pride that he drove himself right into death? Do I want to be someone whose sharp wit and bold spirit earned him just as many enemies as it did friends?_

_Or maybe it’s not about how I make them see me. Maybe it’s not about what I choose to show my friends, or my enemies. Maybe it’s not even about what I choose to show Burr. How I go out — how my legacy is shaped — I don’t think I get to determine that. They all do, regardless of how I may try to change their minds. When I go, it’s the ones I leave behind that are in charge of my legacy. I planted the seeds, but they tend to the garden. They choose which stories get told._

_And what will they tell of me? Will I be like Abuela Claudia? Will people line up at my funeral to share all the times I made them smile? Will the things they say make people happy even when I can’t do it on my own anymore?_

_I hope that’s how I’ll go out. I hope Sonny — bless that kid, he’s lost so many already — can go on knowing his older cousin always believed in him, and always will. I hope he can look back on the times I yelled at him in the bodega and laugh. I hope Nina can reminisce about the shared moments we had over piraguas on Abuela Claudia’s stoop, and I hope she smiles when she remembers. I hope Benny knows he was the brother I never had, and I hope he felt the same about me. I hope Vanessa forgives me for being such a coward and never being able to say what I needed to say. I hope she knows, no matter how I failed at expressing it, that I love her._

_It’s ironic, really, how she’ll remember me for saying too little where others will remember me for saying too much. How differently my story will be told by the likes of Burr, and Angelica, and Peggy and Lafayette and Hercules and… and John._

_John, who saw both sides of me before I even knew I_ had _two sides. The kindest, smartest, bravest man I’ve ever known, who stood by me even when he wasn’t sure who he was standing by – even when I_ myself _didn’t know who he was standing by. God, I hope he doesn’t forget that now that I’m gone. I hope he realizes he meant so much to me that even though I forgot about myself, I never truly forgot about him. I hope he understands that he is so unequivocally_ him _that nothing – no fake death, no depraved father, no identity crisis – could ever truly break him. And when he finally learns how I felt about him, because surely Vanessa will tell him, I hope he knows he was worth it._

_But it’s too late now to hope for any of that. Now, I have no control over any of it, any of them. What I can do now is die. What I can do is finally rejoin everyone I loved that had died for me already and tell them how sorry I am and how much I care for them all. I can finally be united with the mom I forgot about for so long, who gifted me with life. I can meet Eliza, and Philip, and thank them with all the weight of the universe for forgiving me, and be the husband that Eliza truly deserved. I can find Abuela Claudia and tell her she need not apologize for anything, and that I loved her for protecting me and caring for me and being there regardless of what she had to do. I can tell her how lucky I was to have her as an agent and an abuela, and sit with her and tell her stories while we watch the world from our stars._

_Abuela Claudia always looked up at the stars._

He looked up and was oddly comforted by the immensity of the night sky. To him the stars always seemed like iridescent fragments of an entirely different world that were raining down on Earth, suddenly suspended in motion. Time stood still in the sky; there was nothing for the stars to do except catch and hold the faint light of the moon. They radiated peace and seemed to beckon to him, and suddenly, Usnavi couldn’t think of a better way to die.

_If I die tonight, I die as time stands still. I die bearing nothing but light, having known true happiness, and life, and love. I die among the stars._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oh ma fuckin god he fuckin dead
> 
> ALSO!  
> i don't always reply to comments  
> but when i do  
> *sips Dos Equis*  
> it takes about ten years (but I'm still really really grateful for them thank you so much)  
> stay amazing, mis amigos


	14. Burr

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Burr deals with the consequences of what he's done.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry. Truly, I am.

_Alexander looked up at the stars._

“WAIT!”

The shout had come from his own mouth, but he was caught just as unaware by it as anyone else could have been. He jerked his arm up, stumbling backward and falling onto his butt.

But his shout had also startled him into action. The trigger had been squeezed. The gunshot still rang in his ears. Alexander was hunched over, one arm clutching a spot on his ribs, the other yanked behind his back by the knotted tangle of ropes.

_No no no no,_ he thought frantically, scrambling to his feet.

Alexander had looked up at the stars. He could’ve made Burr watch the light leave his eyes; he could’ve left that final image for Burr to be haunted with for the rest of his days. And Alexander knew that. But instead, he had looked up at the stars.

“No,” he whispered, running over to the man as his head suddenly hung limp and he collapsed forward, reminding Burr unsettlingly of a mangled ragdoll with all the ropes falling around him.

_He looked up at the stars. He saw the same sky that I see when I’m looking at the New Jersey skyline with Theo. He had family, and friends, and a life. And even as he was staring down the barrel of my gun, he refused to fight back. He refused to leave his scar. He had nothing against me._

He dropped to his own knees in front of him, putting a hand on Alexander’s shoulder to keep him upright and hastily untying the ropes with the other hand.

_He was never out to hurt me, or Theo. How did I not realize, I thought he was dead for four years — for four years, I did nothing, and yet neither did he. Unknowingly I gave him free reign over my life and he still didn’t take it. Oh God, what have I done now? How did I never realize the world was wide enough for the both of us?_

The ropes around his wrists fell away and his trapped hand fell limply to his side. The weight of it made Alexander slump over. Burr caught his head, refusing to let him fall.

_This man is no more guilty than any other innocent person I’ve killed. If he dies tonight, I’m still the one getting in Theo’s way. That’s one more face I'll see whenever she points to my wife's picture. That’s one more drink that I’ll hide from her when she’s sleeping soundly and I’m wide awake. That’s one more night she’ll have to spend with the neighbors because I can’t bear to let her see me break down in front of her._

“You can’t die!” he almost shouted, and suddenly Alexander’s head snapped back up. His eyes were wide open.

And slowly, his hand came off his ribs. There was no blood. There was no entry wound.

There was no bullet.

The realization came slowly, and even then, Burr refused to believe it.

“I didn’t hit you.”

Alexander’s mouth was still full of cloth. He stared at his hand, then looked up, and slowly shook his head.

Quickly, Burr undid the gag, and as soon as he did, his mouth opened and he took a deep, gasping breath.

Still, Burr could barely comprehend what had happened. “ _I didn’t hit you?_ ”

"You didn’t hit me.”

After years and years and years of hearing that voice and willing it to shut up, he never thought he’d be as grateful to hear it as he was. They stared at each other in silence, Burr searching for words that could voice a reality he hardly even believed in.

“You’re alive.”

Alexander nodded slowly, still looking at Burr with fear in his eyes — and suddenly stopped. He looked back down at his ribs. And back to Burr. And then up at the sky.

“I’m alive.”

~~~

“I’m sorry,” Alexander said, and Burr nearly crashed the car again.

In the span of ten minutes, the man had said words he’d never even dreamed of him uttering in a lifetime: “Thank you,” “you’re right” and now “I’m sorry.”

“You are?” He asked as he straightened out in the lane.

“Yes, I am. I’m sorry for being such a terrible person, and doing whatever shitty things I did to you. Because that’s probably why you wanted to kill me, right?”

“Oh Umm… yes. Yes, you did some things that I didn’t agree with. Politically and… personally. You were a threat to mine and my daughter’s life. So… I thought I had to kill you.”

“...But you didn’t.”

“Yes, I… I didn’t.” Burr sighed, easing his grip on the steering wheel. “Because I realized I really didn’t need to. I spent my entire life trying to make my daughter’s life better, but every time I hurt someone, I was only making it worse. And tonight, I finally realized that nothing was going to change if I shot you. You were no guiltier than anyone else I… I killed. I was the only one to blame for what I did.”

Alexander nodded, biting his lip and staring intently out the window.

“So… I owe you an apology too. For holding my grudge all these years. For… everything else I did. All the lives I- I know it doesn't mean much now, but I’m sorry, Alexander.”

Still, the man stayed silent. It worried Burr, admittedly a lot more than it should have. Of course, for everything he’d done there was no chance that Alexander could ever forgive him. That was a given. Still, Burr found himself unwilling to lose a friend — no, perhaps friend wasn’t the right word, considering the circumstances, but still. Alexander was someone to talk to, and someone he didn’t have to hide from.

“Usnavi,” the man finally replied.

“What?”

“Not Alexander. Call me Usnavi. It’s… it’s the name my Abuela Claudia gave me when I got a second chance at life.”

“O-okay,” Burr replied, unsure of what to make of that response. Alexander — no, Usnavi — finally looked over at him, his eyes thoughtful.

“And I forgive you. Not because what you’ve done is necessarily forgivable, but because they would have wanted me to. Eliza and Abuela and everyone I’ve lost because of you. All they wanted was for me to be happy, and they gave me this chance to move on from the past. A chance to start over, and be better than I was. And I’m taking it. So I forgive you.” He smiled and returned his gaze to the street lights drifting past.

Burr nodded and let guilt settle in the pit of his stomach as the car fell silent. Usnavi had forgiven him — which was better than the alternative, but somehow even worse, too. Because he had almost killed a man with the capacity to forgive the unforgivable.

There was a fork in the road ahead and Burr made a quick decision to take a right instead of the left that would bring them back to New York. Usnavi didn’t seem to notice the difference, probably because he’d been passed out in Burr’s trunk on the initial ride.

And he couldn’t understand why he himself had done it, either. The urge had come suddenly and inexplicably; it was the same gut feeling that screamed at him not to shoot his gun before he gritted his teeth, counted down and did it anyway.

But he was done ignoring it.

“Where are we going?” Usnavi asked curiously, finally catching sight of a sign up ahead that indicated they were, in fact, going in the opposite direction of their intended destination.

The instant he asked, Burr had the answer. Or rather, he figured, he’d always had the answer. He just finally recognized it.

“If you don’t mind, we’re making a quick stop to see my daughter.”

~~~

“Daddy!” Theo cried happily, launching herself into Burr’s stomach. Burr laughed and staggered a couple of steps backward, catching her and lifting her to eye level.

“Hi, Theo. Did you miss me?”

She nodded and smiled, throwing her tiny arms around his neck.

“Hey, Aaron! Perfect timing, the movie just finished and Will’s already knocked out,” Kelly said, walking to the doorway with Theo’s backpack in hand.

“Thank you, Kelly.”

“Anytime — oh?” Her gaze shifted from Burr to the other man standing behind him.

“Oh, right. Kelly, this is Alex- Usnavi. This is Usnavi,” he corrected himself quickly. Usnavi smiled and offered his hand.

“Usnavi de la Vega. It’s nice to meet you. I’m a friend of Burr’s.”

_He’s a friend._

Burr had to take a moment to recover from that statement while Usnavi chatted with his neighbor a bit more.

Ah, well, I just came along for the ride, right?” Usnavi said, drawing him back into the conversation.

“Hm? Oh, yes!” Burr replied quickly. “Right, the ride. I suppose I’d better get the both of you home.”

“Home is right there,” Theo piped up, giggling and pointing to their door across the hall.

“Yes, it is. But Usnavi’s home is a little further away. Are you ready, Theo? We're going to go for a car ride.”

“Yay!” she cheered, kicking her legs excitedly. Bur chuckled and held her closer. After saying another thank you and goodnight to Kelly, the three of them were off to Washington Heights.

~~~

Within the first mile, Theo, who usually was extremely shy around strangers, was talking animatedly with Usnavi from her booster seat in the back. By mile four, she was teaching him the songs she learned in kindergarten and gleefully laughing when he made up his own words. By mile five, she had them deeply engrossed in the events of Finding Nemo — she had an excellent memory and was nearly doing a scene-by-scene breakdown.

“This kid is smart,” Usnavi mouthed to him after Theo recited "P. Sherman, 42 Wallaby Way, Sydney" without so much as a hesitation.

Burr just grinned and turned back to the road.

Mile ten brought them into New York and the city which meant the car fell into silence as his little girl gazed out at the unfamiliar streets. Every now and then Usnavi would point out a building for her or give it a name (“that one’s called little Ben. Heard of Big Ben? That’s his brother”). He was also navigating for Burr at that point, and Burr was fairly sure that they were taking a roundabout scenic route, but he didn’t mind. Theo was loving it.

She finally fell asleep around twelve o’clock, her head nearly horizontal against her booster seat. Burr glanced at her through the rearview mirror and chuckled softly.

Usnavi turned back and smiled, too. “She’s a great kid,” he whispered, smiling at Burr. “Out to do great things. She’s gonna blow us all away one day. I know you… well, you kinda messed up at some things, but you really did do a good job raising her.”

"Thank you."

Burr was suddenly overcome with emotion, and his throat closed up. That gut feeling was back, but this time he didn’t want to listen to it. He already knew what it was going to make him do, and he really didn’t want to do it. They drove in silence for a while as he tried to ignore it.

_My heart is supposed to tell me to do things that make me feel good,_ he thought angrily. _Why is it making me cry over my own daughter? What good can possibly come of this?_

And then Aaron Burr looked back at his daughter through the rearview mirror and remembered whose good he was really fighting for.

“Usnavi?”

“Hm?”

“We’re… I need a favor.”

“Sure.”

Burr swallowed hard. “Will you take her for a while?” he finally asked, unable to stop his voice from cracking at the end. Usnavi looked over as he kept his eyes trained on the road, trying to keep the emotion down.

“What? Why?”

“I need help. I need-” he took a deep, shuddering breath- “I need to stop having visions of dead people. I need to sleep at night if I ever want to be a good father for her. I mean, I know I don't deserve that- but she does. She deserves a good dad. And in order for that to happen, in order for me to get treatment-” he glanced at Usnavi, and then at Theo. “I need to turn myself in.”

“No,” Usnavi said quickly, shaking his head. “You can’t, If you turn yourself in they’ll put you in jail for the rest of your life. You can’t do that to her.”

“If I’m being honest, I’m responsible for so many deaths, they could execute me if they wanted,” Burr replied quietly. “But it’s what I have to do. She can’t go on living with me the way I am. _I_ can barely live with me the way I am. And believe me — I’m going to fight for her. We’re both lawyers, you know I can make a case for a sentence where I get to see her again. But I have to go.”

Still, Usnavi stared at him, saying nothing.

“I know. I’m sorry. I k- I took away your own family, and your own son, and now I’ve come and nearly shot you and I’m trying to give you my own child to look after. I just don’t know what else to do. I can’t give her up to CPS, I just can’t. They’ll take her away forever. And when Kelly finds out I was the m-murderer next store, it’ll be the same for her there, I just thought-”

“Take a left up here,” Usnavi interjected softly. “And no, I get it. I’ll take her, if you really trust me to. You want what’s best for her. That’s what I would’ve wanted for Philip.”

Suddenly Burr was unpleasantly reminded of the fact that Eliza had asked Burr to look over Philip when she realized she was going to die. The guilt returned full-force — though, really, it was always there — as he attempted a small smile. It further confirmed his decision, though. He couldn’t live for much longer like this.

“Thank you,” he half-whispered, tears coming to his eyes again. He wiped them away as inconspicuously as he could. Usnavi redirected his gaze to the window, probably to let him have a few moments in private.

“It’s this building on the right,” he finally said quietly.

They pulled up and he wordlessly got out of the car, turning and standing in front of the open door hesitantly.

“Hey Burr, if you need anything before I see you again… testimony, a lawyer, anything, you call me. Do you need my number?”

“I have it, actually. I- ahh…”

“Got it from stalking me when you were still trying to kill me.”

“Right.”

Usnavi nodded good-naturedly. Burr just shook his head, averting his eyes to the passenger seat. “I’m sorry. Truly, I am. And I know I can’t take back anything I’ve done, but know that if I could, I would in a heartbeat.”

Usnavi nodded. “I know. And I hope you get through this. No- I mean, I know you will. But I hope it’s not too hard.”

The man he nearly killed mere hours ago was standing there, forgiving him and wishing him the best. It left him wondering if he had ever really known him at all.

“Thank you.”

They stood in silence for a while, Burr because emotion was threatening to close up his throat again and Usnavi because he just seemed unsure of what to say.

“So… you’ll call me when… you’re ready to let her go, and I’ll be there,” he finally spoke up, gesturing tentatively to the still-sleeping Theo.

“I will.”

Usnavi nodded, straightening and putting a hand on the car door.

“Well, good night, Burr.”

“Good night, Usnavi.”

With one last polite smile, the man shut the car door and disappeared into the dark apartment building. Burr watched him go before turning on the engine and heading home.

And for the first time in four years, he let his tears fall freely.

~~~

Theo stirred lightly as Burr carried her down the hall and to her bedroom and finally yawned and opened her eyes when he laid her down.

“Shhh, it’s alright,” he whispered as he tucked her in, soothing her drowsy murmurs.

“Daddy?”

“I’m right here, sweetie.” Burr hoped that in the darkness of her room, she couldn’t see the tears still glistening in his eyes.

“Can we go drive again? I like all the big buildings. And Usnavi. I like Usnavi.”

Burr smiled as he smoothed down her curly hair.

“You know what? Tomorrow, I’m taking off work, and we can drive as much as we want. And we can go to the zoo, and we can watch a movie, and we can go anywhere you want to see. How does that sound?”

“Good!” she said happily, rolling over to face him. “I like that.”

“Then it’s settled,” Burr whispered.

“Uggghhh.... I don’t wanna wait for tomorrow. That's too long.”

“Well then, why don’t you go to sleep?”

“I’m too excited! I'm not tired!” she whined, rolling over to face him earnestly.

“But that’s the thing about sleep,” Burr replied, smiling and brushing the hair out of her face. “You do it, and once you wake up, tomorrow will be here.”

“Okay,” she said, smiling and squeezing her eyes shut tight.

Burr chuckled and smoothed down her hair again, pressing a gentle kiss to her forehead. “I love you, little Theo. No matter what happens, always remember that?”

“I will. I love you, too, Daddy.”

He couldn’t say anything after that or else she would’ve heard him cry. All there was left to do was smile, smooth down the blanket covers, and leave her door open a crack when he left.

Aaron Burr had a nightmare that night. He dreamt he had to kill everyone he knew, all over again, one by one. It meant he had to stand there with his eyes wide open as the light left their eyes. It meant he had to kill Usnavi. It meant he had to aim his pistol right at Theo’s heart.

But it also meant that he slept. Even though he woke up with tears blurring his vision and his heart pounding in his chest, he slept through the night.

And tomorrow was here.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ...okay NOW you may despair over the mortality of Usnavi and co.
> 
> y'all thought I'd actually kill him smh


	15. John

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John. That's it. That's the chapter

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You ever spend two whole days writing a single sentence
> 
> Anyway I meant to post this chapter two days ago but here it is

John sat alone in the waiting room, his face buried in his hands.

He had told everyone else to go home and get some sleep. It was partly because they all needed it and partly because he needed the space to think by himself.

Waiting room was such a morbid name, he was beginning to realize. It’s a room where he’s supposed to sit and wait for someone to bring inescapable bad news. It’s a restaurant where the nurses all emerge with death upon their silver platters and looks of deadened sympathy on their faces. And all John could do was wait for it to come.

Pete’s vitals crashed at exactly 11:06 pm. He knew because he had been staring at the clock. He’d been staring at the clock because he was the one who had to pry Pete’s and Sonny’s hands apart so the doctors could wheel him off, and he couldn’t bear to watch it.

So there he was, sitting alone in the morbidly named waiting room, his face buried in his hands in a futile attempt to unsee everything that had happened that day. Sonny emerged from the bathroom then, his eyes still red and puffy. He offered John the smallest of smiles and sat in the seat next to him.

Sonny was discharged around midnight with several follow-up appointments scheduled over the coming weeks for his head injuries. John suggested that he, too, should go home and get some rest, to which he flatly refused. And John argued no more than that. Maybe, in some way, it would be easier being there when they finally received the news.

Besides, going home for Sonny meant going to an empty apartment and trying to sleep in a house meant for two. There was still no word on Usnavi, despite Hercules’s best efforts. Though everyone comforted him and gave him hope, John couldn’t help but feel hopeless. The man was gone.

Twice. Twice in one life, John had loved him. And twice in one life, it had been too little, too late. The first time he was too scared of his father to even admit it to himself. He was afraid to lose the respect of a man who didn’t even deserve respect, a man who deserved none of what he got. And then again he loved, and again, he lost. All because he was too afraid to - what, to say three words out loud? To be honest with his best friend?

There would be no third chance. That, he was sure of. The only images he would see of him ever again would be tinted in shades of regret.

He hung his head again, far past tears. He was much too broken for that sort of thing. He felt a hand on his own and looked over.

Sonny was staring at some distant point, his eyes still red and swollen. Still, he was there, sitting tall and offering a reassuring hand. Sonny had lost two people in one day and he still managed to cry and sit stoically and be so strong.

“How are you taking this so well?” he asked quietly.

Sonny looked over to him, and John saw a brokenness in his eyes, too. But it was a different kind – a brokenness not beyond repair. He wasn’t shattered, just… deflated.

He looked back at whatever point he was staring at and took a breath. When he spoke his voice was soft, but steady.

“I’m _terrified,_ John. I’m terrified a doctor’s gonna come down that hall and make this all real. I’m terrified that the next time I look at my phone, someone's gonna message a picture of my cousin lying dead in a ditch somewhere. But… you gotta keep moving.” He looked at John with almost a trace of a smile on his face. “Pete taught me that. When we were younger, he taught me how to survive in the barrio. Here you lose battles and you lose – you lose people. It’s just how it goes. And first he said your best bet is to not get too attached to anything in the first place, but-” he looked down at his lap and smiled softly to himself- “I was never very good at that. So he said, you just gotta keep moving. There’s no use fighting a lost cause.”

He paused, looking away again and taking another breath.

“I fought all I could, and probably more. And I said all I needed to say. They’ll understand. All there’s left to do is move on.”

John watched him blink back tears. The kid was stronger than him in almost every way. It was hard to imagine that anyone as scrappy as Sonny could think like that, but there he was.

John squeezed his hand tightly and turned his gaze to the hall. There was so much strength in his words, but it was all lost on him. Only one thought ran through his mind.

_What happens if you_ didn’t _fight all you could? How do you move on when you didn’t say all you needed to say?_

Before he could fathom an answer, the doctor emerged from the hallway and John’s stomach filled with dread. It was the third or fourth time he’d come, of course; there were other patients and families he was attending to, but he couldn’t help but react the same way every time. Eventually one of these visits would be for them.

This time, the doctor looked directly at them and his heart dropped.

Sonny noticed, too, because John heard his breathing cease as he made his way over to them.

“John Laurens, right? And Sonny.” He said gently, standing above them with a clipboard in hand.

As much as he imagined that moment, nothing could prepare him for the real thing. His words stuck in his throat on the way out, desperate to avoid the inevitable beginning of a reality meant for someone much stronger than himself.

“Yes,” Sonny answered, his voice almost a whisper.

The doctor smiled softly. Doctors shouldn’t smile, John decided. Not with stuff like this. It’s not in their place to smile.

“There’s someone in there who would like to see you.”

_Silence._ It was as if John was on a rollercoaster that stopped right before the plummet.

“What?” Sonny asked, in a choked sort of voice.

“Yeah,” the doctor replied, smiling wider. “I can’t believe it either, but he pulled through, and he’s asking for y-”

Before he could even finish his sentence, Sonny had disappeared, sprinting down the hall before John even realized he moved.

He shot to his feet, looking back at the doctor, who just kept on smiling. “Follow him, I guess.”

They ran down the hall, trying to keep up with Sonny, who looked like he was running for his life. For all intents and purposes, maybe he was: John was still in shock, and his own heart only seemed to be pumping because of the rhythmic pounding of his footsteps.

They finally turned into the same room that Sonny had been in before, and John couldn’t believe his eyes.

"PETE!” Sonny cried.

“Hey, Sonshine,” Pete replied, smiling weakly.

There he was, alive and in the flesh. John only saw his face for a moment before Sonny threw his arms around his torso so recklessly that John grew concerned about one of the many tubes around him snapping off.

“Oh my God, you’re here. You’re okay?” Sonny asked him frantically, taking his head in both hands and looking him over quickly.

“Kid’s a fighter,” the doctor replied breathlessly, still trying to recover from the run down the hall. He stepped into the room and leaned against a visitor’s chair. “I’ve never seen anything like it before. Even when we thought he was done, his heart just… wouldn’t quit. It got real close, but he just didn’t stop… _living._ We cut out half his liver and a _lot_ of diseased tissue, but the infection’s under control now. And the organs are standing up to the antibiotics.”

Sonny looked like he was going to say something, but only managed to get out a choked whimper before hugging Pete tightly again.

“I thought you said you couldn’t operate on him?” John asked.

“We couldn’t. He was allergic to our general anesthetic. But once it got down to it, we figured, if he’s not gonna go out, we might as well give him a fighting chance.”

“So you…”

The doctor shook his head and laughed, as if he couldn’t even believe his own words. “We gave him an epidural narcotic and went in without it.”

Sonny stared from Pete to the doctor and back.

“Everything hurts like hell,” Pete said quietly.

“It was probably the most hardcore thing I’ve ever seen at this hospital,” the doctor agreed. “And don’t worry, we’re pumping him full of all the pain meds and sedatives he can possibly take.”

“Which ain’t enough.”

Sonny let out a watery laugh as he grabbed Pete’s hand and clung to it. Then all at once, he buried his head in Pete’s chest and his choked laughter turned into something more of a sob.

“Hey, shhh,” Pete whispered gently, wrapping an arm around him. Out of the corner of his eye, John saw the doctor smile and slip out quietly. John considered doing the same when Pete looked at him and gestured for him to come closer. He obeyed and put a steady hand on Sonny’s back.

“It’s okay, Sonshine. We’re okay,” Pete whispered, his voice seemingly getting quieter by the second.

Sonny just kept on half-sobbing, pressing his forehead against Pete’s. “I- I thought-” he choked out between breaths. “You were gone- I woke up - alone and they said you were-”

He couldn’t continue. Instead, he wrapped his arms around Pete again, his shoulders shaking as he cried freely.

Pete looked close to tears, too, and he seemed to be getting weaker by the second. He brought another thoroughly tubed hand up – a feat that seemed to take up far more energy than it should have – and let it fall onto Sonny’s back.

“Sonny,” John interjected quietly. “I know you’re happy. But I think Pete needs a little rest.”

Pete glanced up at him in a silent guilty thank-you.

Sonny nodded and released him, still sniffling. The sobs were definitely in control, though, as he smiled and smoothed down the bed covers.

“Sorry.”

“Don’t be.”

He started to pull away until Pete whispered “wait.” Weakly, he brought up a hand to caress his cheek, smiling lightly. “I love you.”

His hand came down and brought them together in a soft kiss. John felt very much like he was intruding, so he looked away and walked over to examine a chart in the corner.

_That’s how it should’ve been. That’s how a second chance goes,_ he thought. _You say what you should’ve said the first time, and then you go on with life._

“Oh, sorry, didn’t mean to interrupt!” a female voice said quickly, and John turned to see a nurse backing out of the doorway.

“It’s okay,” Sonny replied, standing and turning to her. “We should probably get outta here, anyway.”

“Oh, hey, you’re… Sonny, right? You were a patient in here earlier?”

“Yep, that’s me.”

“Actually, I was looking for you! Great- a couple hours ago you asked me about a man?”

Sonny’s brows furrowed, then all of a sudden his face dropped. “Usnavi?”

John whipped his head around to the nurse, who smiled.

“Yeah, him! Well, I dunno if you found him yet, but he came in asking for you.” She turned her head to the hall, as if addressing someone out there. “He’s here, sir, you can come in if you want.”

And Usnavi appeared in the doorway – the real Usnavi, with bags under his eyes and grass stains on his pants.

Forget the stupid rollercoaster. The whole _world_ stopped moving.

“Sonny,” the man said, relieved.

“USNAVI!” The kid ran at him full force and almost knocked him down in a massive bear hug. Usnavi staggered backward a few steps, laughing – John never thought he would ever hear that laugh again.

“What happened? Are you okay?” Usnavi asked worriedly, prying the kid from his torso and looking him up and down critically. “I got the hospital’s call that you were admitted in serious condition.”

“I’m fine,” Sonny said quickly, laughing that choked laugh again. “But I’m not who we’re worried about. What happened to you?”

Usnavi just shook his head. “It’s a long story. But I can tell you one thing-” he grinned- “There’s no more murderer after me.”

Sonny laughed and hugged him again quickly.

“So this is Pete's room?” Usnavi finally said, pulling away and looking around. “What happened to him? Because the nurse told me he was in the ICU too-”

He froze when he finally caught sight of John standing in the corner.

“John.”

There he was, saying his name and looking right at him.

He didn’t know who moved first, or maybe they both did, but either way Usnavi’s arms were around him and he was holding Usnavi and he was real and he was here and the impossibility of a third chance with him vanished along with the rest of the world.

“You’re here. Oh my God, you’re alive.”

Usnavi held him tighter and said nothing.

John sure as hell wasn’t saying nothing, he already said too much of that. “We thought you went and died again, I was going to – _God,_ I missed you so much, I can’t believe you’re here.”

Usnavi pulled away, looking at his feet. “Wait, John.”

“What?”

“I’m sorry.”

“What – for what?”

Usnavi sighed and glanced up at him, then stared at Pete in his bed.

“For pretending to be… to be me. I’m not who you think I am. I don’t ‘defy death’ and come back to life, and I’m never gonna be the old Alexander ever again. I know all this time you just wanted your best friend back, that’s how you see me. But your Alexander died four years ago, he really did. And maybe some parts of him are never gonna go away, but it’s just me now. I’m just... Usnavi,” he finished, looking back at the ground.

Silently, John lifted his chin until their eyes met.

“I know who you are, and I don’t care. Because you’re you and I-”

The words that he had wanted to get out all night were right there. They were stuck in his throat.

But they wouldn’t come out.

“I’m so glad you’re here, Usnavi.”

He wrapped him in a hug again. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Sonny stare at him.

‘I’m so glad you’re here?’ he mouthed dully.

John just looked away. When he thought he’d never see Usnavi again, nostalgia had painted a pretty picture of their past. He saw a perfect world where he could say what he wanted and Usnavi wouldn’t care. But now, in reality? There was no way he could do that. Because even if it felt like the rest of the world had vanished, it hadn’t. Sonny, and Pete, and Benny, Nina and Vanessa, and Angelica, Lafayette, Hercules and Peggy all existed, too. Usnavi’s enigmatic charisma connected him to these people with more than just friendships. Every bond he made was just as elaborate and valuable as the next. Who was John to step in proclaiming he was of any special importance? What gave him the right to love him like that?

“Usnavi! You’re... here!” another voice rang out from the hall. John broke away to look at Hercules standing in the doorway.

“Herc!” Usnavi exclaimed, hugging him, too. “It’s good to see you, buddy! And yeah, long story short, I'm safe now. But-" he continued quickly, cutting off Hercules's baffled expression- "I'll explain that more later. How are the rest of them? Is everyone okay? Nobody answered my question – what happened to Pete?”

Everyone looked back at the hospital bed. Pete was sleeping – how he managed to fall asleep amidst that whole scene was anyone’s guess.

“He’s... had a rough night. He got shot trying to save you.”

“I’m sorry, what?”

Sonny nodded. “He almost died. The doctors had to cut into him without anesthetic to save his life.”

“What?” Usnavi repeated frantically.

“It’s alright,” Hercules said quietly. “Usnavi, I’m your field agent. I’m going to make sure you all get through this okay.”

“WHAT?”

“Usnavi,” John said, putting a hand on his arm. That seemed to calm him a little bit. “It’s okay. You’re going to be fine. Everyone else is fine. Besides Sonny and Pete, nobody else got hurt. Right, Herc?”

Hercules looked at him regretfully for a few seconds before he shook his head. “That’s what I came in here to tell Pete.” Slowly, he slid the beanie off his head and folded it into a square in his hands.

“George Washington is dead.”

The room fell silent.

Washington? There was no way. Of all the people to face death, he was the one John was most sure would defeat it. He was invincible, and tough, and made of stone. Nobody could even fathom him dead.

In fact, nobody could really fathom anything at all. There was only one thought John could conceive when Hercules uttered those words.

“Someone’s gotta tell Benny.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ...sorry. Again. I really am.
> 
> Also John's self-esteem issues physically hurt to write I'm so sorry I made your father such an abusive asshole


	16. Benny

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Benny mourns.

Benny got the phone call as he was walking back from a dinner with Nina.

Past that, everything was a bit of a blur. He remembered vigorously shaking his head, yelling at Usnavi through the phone, calling him a liar. He remembered Nina tugging the phone out of his hand and the look on her face as she got the news. He remembered the blossoming of pain on his knuckles as he punched the bathroom wall in the dorm as Nina talked to her stupid nosy roommate outside.

What he didn’t remember was getting to New York, or going to the funeral, or any one of the hundreds of faces that bade him the same condolences, over and over and over again. Because when they greeted him with their carefully composed expressions and looks of sympathy, they all seemed to say the same thing.

_It’s your fault. It’s your fault. It’s your fault._ When Nina put her arms around him and told him she had to go back to school, that’s all he heard. When Martha Washington leaned her head against his shoulder as they watched his casket sink into the ground, that’s all he heard. When Usnavi held his hand the entire car ride back home, it’s all he heard. And when he was standing alone in his apartment staring at all his brother’s belongings, it’s all he heard.

_It’s your fault he’s dead._

He shut himself in his room and collapsed on his bed, but quickly staggered backward. The bed smelled like his brother; there was no escaping him. He walked out to the living room, his breaths getting shorter in an attempt to avoid breathing in the air his brother once breathed but couldn’t anymore. There was his laptop and the remnants of a coke gone warm and flat. The kitchen held plates and cups strewn about methodically; he could see George using the stove and the fridge and the microwave as he went about his daily business. Benny’s breath was coming in frenzied gasps now as he fled to the bathroom, only to be met with the scent of a soap that was all George, all over the place was George, doing his job and going about his life and making stupid jokes and guessing what he was doing through the phone–

His back hit a wall. He was back in the corner of his living room, and he sank to his butt, curling up into a ball and pressing his forehead against his knees.

_But now he’s dead. Because of me._

He tried to calm his breathing, but it seemed as though his lungs had other plans. The air seemed like it was getting thinner and thinner, and he felt his throat closing in on itself. Wetness appeared on his cheeks and he let it pour out while he clung to his legs tightly. Somewhere along the line the wailing started – it took him a little while to figure out that the anguished cries were coming from him.

“Benny?” said a voice suddenly. He barely registered it at first, but then it came again.

“Oh, Benny.”

He didn’t look up but hastily wiped his face as he heard the thump of a bag, then a gentle hand was around his shoulders. “I know, I know, it’s hard. Shhh, you’re okay.”

He glanced up briefly to see Martha Washington sitting next to him, that same sad look on her face she had worn for the past week. She sank down next to him and rubbed a hand up and down his arm, sighing heavily.

Benny had taken away her husband, but here she was, comforting him all the same. “I’m so sorry,” he managed to choke out before falling into a round of fresh sobs.

“It’s okay. Let it out, you’re alright. I’m here.”

She rubbed soothing circles into his back and wordlessly pressed a tissue into his hand. He wiped away tears, but more replaced them immediately. He pulled his knees closer to his chest and she scooted closer, pulling him in. He leaned his head against her shoulder lightly as she wrapped him in a half-hug.

They stayed like that for as long as Benny could dare indulge in the comfort. At some point, Martha leaned back against him and he realized she had started to tear up, too.

“I’m sorry,” he said again as soon as his breathing was under control. “For leaving, and being such a bad brother. This is all my fault, and I just-” he hiccuped again, wiping tears away with the palm of his hand.

“It’s not your fault, Benny,” replied Martha softly. “You can’t blame yourself.”

“B-but if I never left, he wouldn’t’ve-”

“Benny, look at me.”

She took his face in both hands, holding him at eye level and brushing a tear away from his cheek. “None of this is your fault. You stop thinking that.”

She broke away briefly to wipe away tears of her own. Grief laid heavy on her features, probably more so than even Benny’s. Still, she looked him in the eye again and held him firmly.

“George had a dangerous job. You and I both know that. He knew that, too. Something like this is hard, I know. But it was part of the job description.”

“But if I was here instead of him-”

“There is no way he’d let you get into that kind of situation. If you had stayed, he would’ve had to come in either way. He loved you too much to let you get hurt.”

He looked down, guilt still hanging over him. Martha was right; George dying on the job had always been a definite possibility. And he would have liked to believe that George wouldn’t have put him in danger. But still, the last words he had ever spoken to his brother were ‘my life was just fine without you in it.’

“I never even apologized,” he said quietly.

They sat in heavy silence for a few moments.

Martha sighed. Slowly, she got to her feet and offered Benny a hand. “Then let’s go.”

“Go where?” he asked, taking it.

She squeezed his hand as he stood up.

“Go apologize.”

~~~

The car ride was mostly quiet, with Martha driving and Benny sitting in the passenger seat. George was buried near Abuela Claudia – not because they were agents, but because Washington Heights had been both their homes. Usnavi had mentioned that George asked to be buried there in his will.

“May I ask-” Martha started, glancing at him- “if things are okay between you and – Nina, was it?”

“Yes, they’re okay,” replied Benny. “She’s… we’re back together.”

“That’s good,” said Martha, smiling softly. “Your trip was taken for a good cause. He’d have liked that.”

Mention of the trip to California sent him spiraling into dark thoughts again. He looked out at the city passing silently. Martha seemed to notice his change in mood, though, and put a hand on his arm reassuringly.

“Should I have gone? On the trip?” he asked her.

“Oh, goodness, yes,” she replied without hesitation. “From what George told me, you were so overwhelmed when he gave you that job. Any normal person would’ve quit straight away. But you waited – you stuck it out until you had no choice but to leave, because you had to chase down love in California. Your decision was nothing less than admirable.”

_Maybe the decision was admirable,_ Benny thought, _but everything else I did afterwards wasn’t._

The rest of the ride passed in silence until they arrived at the cemetery. They got out of the car and walked up the hill side-by-side to his plot. The packed-in dirt was still fresh, though tufts of grass were slowly beginning to crawl in from the sides. A large slab of marble with his name etched on it was barely visible under the dozens of bouquets and miniature American flags and extinguished candles scattered around the grass.

“Hello, dear,” Martha whispered, placing a single flower in the center of the dirt. “I hope you’re doing well, wherever you are. As you can probably tell, we all miss you very much down here.” She looked around at all the tokens of memory and smiled softly. “But don’t you worry. Everyone’s doing alright. Usnavi is safe. That boy they found you with is going to be okay. So is your ex-agent.” She smiled at Benny.

“Hey, G-Wash,” he said to the patch of dirt.

She chuckled and shook her head. “That’s right, B-Wash and G-Wash. I remember when he told me about those nicknames.”

They stood in silence for a long moment as a breeze drifted through the area. A leaf from a nearby tree floated on the wind, flipped once and landed right next to the flower.

“I’m letting our offer on the house go,” said Martha, addressing George again. “I’ll stay in our apartment. It’s much too big for a little old woman like me, anyway. And I don’t think I’ll be getting back into the dating pool anytime soon.” She smiled again. “But don’t you worry about me, George. I knew what I was signing up for when I married you. I’ll be fine on my own. Maybe I’ll even get a cat… I’ve always wanted one. I never understood why you hated them so much.”

She sighed, and Benny looked over at her. There, smiling faintly down at the marble headstone, she almost looked… wisened. Grief had certainly aged her; he could see the heaviness in her eyes. But there was something else there, too: a sort of steadiness in her expression. When this sort of weight fell upon her, she wouldn’t break. She built to hold it. She was exactly what George had needed.

“I love you,” she whispered, barely audible over the soft breeze. Slowly, she pressed her lips to her fingertips and then lightly touched the engraved letters of his name.

She stepped back then, shutting her eyes and smiling for a moment. When she opened them, she was back in the present, looking straight at Benny.

“I’m going back to the car. But take as much time as you need. I’ll wait.”

With one more squeeze of his hand, she turned and headed back down the hill without a second glance. And suddenly, it was just Benny and George.

“Hey… George. Um-”

Martha brought him here to apologize, but he felt like he was just talking to a flower now.

“Oh, right, he muttered, stepping closer and placing his own bouquet next to it. “That’s from me. Well, Martha bought it, but she bought it for me to give to- you know what? Never mind.”

Talking to a square of dirt wasn’t getting him anywhere. He saw George’s name and all his gifts, but he wasn’t _there._ Benny needed to see his face and feel his presence. He needed to close his eyes and imagine him sitting there, or hear his voice one more time–

An idea struck him. He pulled his phone out of his pocket and hastily dialed his voicemail, suddenly remembering the one time he wouldn’t listen to it. He prayed he hadn’t deleted it, or that it hadn’t been deleted with the time. Thankfully, the automated voice told him he still had one new message from George Washington. He addressed the dirt plot again.

“Um, I’m going to listen to your voicemail. It’s the one you sent a while ago, and I just never opened it. I just wasn’t in the mood to hear you telling me what I should’ve done, y’know? But I guess I owe it to you. I want to hear everything you wanted to say.”

He put the phone to his ear again and pressed play.

“B-Wash!” his brother’s voice rang out. “It’s me- look. I know you’re mad at me and all of this was my fault. I’m sorry. I really am. I didn’t mean to put you through all this and I know Nina means a lot to you. I’m glad you chose her.”

Benny closed his eyes and he could envision his brother on the other side of the phone. “I get why you’re ignoring me, but I miss talking to you. Benny, you’re my little brother – I love you, man. So… so if you ever feel like talking to me again, just call. I promise I’ll be there for you.”

Benny felt the tears coming back.

“Okay, bye.” The line cut out.

He stayed there for a minute, his eyes squeezed shut. George had been _right there,_ talking to him right through the phone. He could still feel him as though he were on some invisible line, smiling and listening to him.

George could always tell what he was doing when he wasn’t there.

“George,” he whispered, looking down at the flowers on his grave. “I’m here. And I want to talk. You said if I ever wanted to, I could just call and you’d be there. You _promised._ And I know you always kept your promises, because you used to go on and on about how important it was to be honorable-”

He had to stop himself to hold back the tears that were coming quickly up his throat, looking away and shaking his head. “I'm sorry for leaving you, and for saying everything I said. I didn’t mean _any_ of it, man. I’m so sorry.”

It wasn’t working. The tears were coming full-force now and his voice was dissolving into a whimper as he imagined George there, listening to him quietly.

“All this time, you just wanted to talk, and I was ignoring you because I was scared you were just gonna yell at me – George, I shoulda- I shoulda came back, I could’ve come back- I…”

He let out a short sob as he dropped to his knees. “I love you too. And I should’ve told you before. I wasn’t mad at you, it wasn’t your fault. You’re my brother, I can’t leave you out of my life. I’m sorry, I’m so sorry…”

Benny stopped again to wipe the tears from his eyes and brushed his hand over the bare soil. He looked to the sky, shaking his head. “And now it’s too late. It’s just- it’s just me in a field kneeling in front of your body, but you’re gone. You’re not listening, I know. I had my chance and I missed it- God, I should’ve come back- I love you- and you won’t know- and- and- George, I wish you knew-”

He couldn’t continue, instead burying his face in his shaking hands and letting the guilt sink into his stomach again. There was no holding back his sobs now as he let his tears spill over the ground. The dirt was just dirt again, the flowers lay motionless on its surface, and whatever presence he had felt of his brother was gone.

“Forgive me for intruding,” a voice said quietly.

Benny wiped his eyes quickly and looked up. Standing a little ways away was a tall, dark-skinned man, his hands folded in front of him.

“But ‘e knew. George knew ‘ow you loved him.”

The man took a step closer. His accent was strongly European – if Benny were to take a guess, he’d say French.

“You are Benny, no? 'Is brother?”

He nodded and got to his feet, wiping away more tears.

“Oui. You look like ‘im. I am Lafayette. I was a friend of ‘is.”

“Oh, I… hello.” Benny shuffled his feet and nodded at the man.

“Hello. And I could not help but notice you saying ‘e did not know. But I must tell you, ‘e did.”

“He… did?”

“Oui. I talked to him before… all this happened. And ‘e wanted to apologize to you, too. ‘E would have wanted you to ‘ear it from him, but ‘e loves you dearly and ‘e forgives you for whatever you did.”

Benny turned his eyes back to the grave. “But he still thought I was mad at him. I- he left me a message. A voicemail.”

“‘E told me that, too. Benny, your brother was a smart man. I ‘ad to do a lot of convincing, but ‘e understood. Brothers fight, but they are still blood. George knew that once ‘e apologized, it would be alright. And, I think that if you got his message, ‘e did apologize. So ‘e knows now. Wherever ‘e is, ‘e knows.”

Benny nodded as a soft breeze blew through the field again.

_Do you know?_ He asked silently, watching flower petals shake in the breeze. _Are you at peace, wherever you are?_

Maybe Lafayette was right, or maybe he wasn’t. Whatever went on where his brother was was not for Benny to know until he got there.

A part of him really wanted to believe him. He wanted to know that George was happy now and he could hear Benny and he understood how much he was loved, no matter what he said.

But another part – a smaller part, but equally strong in conviction – couldn’t accept it. It was the same part of him that still hung heavy with guilt. He didn’t deserve such an easy resolution; he had fucked up, no matter what anyone told him, and now he would never be able to take that back.

“‘E talked about you much, you know,” Lafayette continued. “Not only now, but before. When we were in the war ‘e shared a lot of stories about you and of when ‘e grew up in Virginia.”

“He did? I thought he sort of just… forgot about us. He was doing such amazing things, he didn’t have time to look back.”

“Non, mon ami. George never forgot where ‘e came from. And ‘e never, ever forgot about you. ‘E wondered always if he was… ‘ow you say… doing you proud.”

Benny turned to Lafayette, who nodded.

George had never said any of this before. Benny's heart, oddly, felt lighter knowing it.

“‘E was a very good man, George. ‘E always was.” Lafayette stood in silence for a moment. “In the war, and in office, and as a friend. I was proud to have fought for him.”

Lafayette sighed lightly and looked down at the marble headstone fondly.

“I am naming our child after him.”

“What?”

Lafayette looked at him, wide-eyed. “You do not mind, no? My wife is pregnant and I am sure ‘e will be a little boy. I want ‘im to grow up to be just as great as ‘is name.”

“Oh, I don’t mind,” Benny replied quickly. “I’m just… flattered. Really, I am, to know how much he meant to people.”

He nodded again, smiling lightly. “‘E will be missed dearly.”

Benny looked from Lafayette to the marble headstone.

“He will. I’m gonna miss you, George.”

Lafayette took another step and patted his shoulder comfortingly. “The pain goes away. It will. And you will always remember the good in ‘im.”

Benny turned to him. “Thank you.”

“Any time, mon ami.”

Benny returned his gaze to the grave, letting the smallest of smiles come to his face.

“I’ll see you later, G-Wash.”

He turned to head back down the hill, nodding to Lafayette as he passed. He got a couple steps further, stopped, and looked back to see the man kneeling in the grass.

One day he would be able to sit with his friends and tell stories about George and laugh about all the things they went through together. One day he could walk up this hill and smile at the memories they made. One day he would look back on their lives and realize that, yeah, maybe he had done his brother proud, too.

He very much wanted to believe that.

Silently saying another goodbye, he turned and headed down to the car.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's only two chapters left in this story what


	17. John

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John continues to squash his feelings down like he's stomping wine grapes with Lafayette on the French countryside.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey y'all! Sorry for the radio silence lol, the past couple months have been a mother truckin' butt cheek on a stick BUT! I am alive and back on my bullshit so please enjoy this newest installment!

As eventful as the last week or so had been, it seemed as though someone had put a damper on Washington Heights.

The death of George Washington was certainly one huge cause of it. It hit everyone hard, and none more so than Benny. He was back in the barrio for good now, but only in the literal sense. Everywhere he went, he had the same distant, sad look, like his mind was somewhere else. John and Usnavi tried their best to pull him through it, but without much success. They eventually agreed with Lafayette that Benny just needed some time, so they backed off a little. After all, John realized, it hadn’t been easy when his own brother died. Grief was one thing, but guilt was a whole other monster.

Sonny wasn’t helping the mood of the place, either. His head injuries required him to take two weeks off from school (John and Usnavi were fairly certain that something had been lost in translation between the doctor’s orders and Sonny’s version of it, but they weren’t going to question him). It meant he spent a lot of time hanging around the bodega. But since Pete was still in the hospital recovering from his infection and growing back his liver, Usnavi’s little cousin just seemed more subdued, and definitely not his usual cheery self. The doctors assured him that Pete would be fine every time they went to visit, but it would be a couple more weeks before he could really function on his own.

The only real point of solace was that Usnavi was still Usnavi. He still smiled at customers as they came in and slid free hot coffees into shivering hands (it was _definitely_ getting colder by the day). He still hummed along to music whenever he turned on the radio. He still made John’s heart flutter when he grinned at him.

Yes, nothing had changed at all when it came to him. They were still best friends, a place where John told himself he was more than content to be. Forget the fact that he wanted to grab his hand when they walked side-by-side or kiss that stupid grin off his face all the time. Usnavi was alive, and they were close enough.

Currently the man was knee-deep in pickle boxes, throwing a glare at Lafayette over the counter.

“What do you MEAN you won’t take them?” He asked indignantly, his hands on his hips like a grumpy toddler.

Lafayette shrugged. “ _Je suis desole, mon ami._ But Adrienne is out of her peeckle phase. And if I ‘ave to see another one of those green wart death spears, I will - ‘ow you say - throw my guts.”

“What do you suppose I do with one hundred jumbo pickle jars, then?”

“Have a pickle sale?” suggested John.

“Or trade them in for cheetos,” Lafayette chimed in. “ _Mon amour_ ‘as seemed to develop a taste for them overnight.”

“I’m gonna put a sign on the door,” replied Usnavi, rolling his eyes and picking up a box. “‘We don’t serve pregnant women here.” 

Lafayette frowned. “I suppose we are taking our business elsewhere, then.”

“Alright, maybe you’ll be the exception,” he called out from the store room. “You know how much I love you both. As long as you name the baby after me.”

Lafayette laughed. “Not a chance.”

John finished bagging the six bags of cheetos Lafayette had purchased and handed him his change.

“ _Merci,_ John. I will see you both later, it is approaching snack time at the Lafayette house.”

“ _Au revoir,_ ” Usnavi said, coming back to the counter. “I’ll see you in… well, you’ll probably be back in a couple hours.”

“Very true,” replied Lafayette, grinning as he turned and left the shop. As he stepped out, Sonny slipped through the open door.

“ _Que paso,_ ” he said, jumping up onto the counter.

“Hey, Sonny,” said John. “What ya been up to?”

“I just came back from downtown. Since Pete’s out, I gotta take care of all his business ventures. I just scored him the commission he was tryna get before his dad… y’know… fucked it all up.”

Since the incident, Sonny had developed a hatred for Pete’s dad that (nearly) rivaled John’s relationship with his own father. Really, it was a bonding point for the two of them.

“Well, that’s good that you got it.”

“Thanks. Pete was supposed to secure it the day his phone got stolen, I guess, so I had to do a whole bunch of convincing. But thankfully the guy understood. I can’t wait to tell Pete.” Sonny grinned, but it faded quicker than usual. “I mean, he’ll probably get all sad because he won’t be workin’ on it for a while, but still.”

“Sonny, good. You’re here,” said Usnavi, coming out of the back again and grabbing another box. “Can you work the counter for a little bit? I need John’s help with these boxes.”

“It’s good to see you too, cuz,” replied Sonny sarcastically, hopping over to their side of the counter.

Usnavi poked his head out from the store room. “I love youuuu,” he said in a singsong voice. “Now counter. Please.”

John chuckled as he picked up a box and followed him to the back. That was one thing that had changed since the incident: Usnavi said ‘I love you’ a lot more now. Maybe that’s just what happened to people who have near-death experiences. It certainly seemed like it, considering he’d been saying it to practically everyone who walked through his door.

Except John.

But that was completely fine, he didn’t want to hear it anyway. Really, it would only make his gut conjure up a butterfly tornado and self-destruct. He was much better off still functional, thank you very much.

“Still don’t know what we’re gonna do with all these,” Usnavi muttered, staring at all the pickle boxes.

“You want my advice? Give ‘em away. With every purchase, a free pickle jar.”

Usnavi laughed as John put his box down. “Maybe if we say it’s National Pickle Month, that could work.”

“That’s actually a thing. And it’s in July.”

“How do you know that?”

John shrugged. “My sister – she’s kinda fond of ‘em. She used to make us celebrate it every year when we were younger.”

“...Any chance she’d like a free donation of a hundred jumbo pickle jars?”

John laughed and shook his head. “She’s a real snob. Only eats ‘em homemade.”

“Damn.”

They grinned at each other for a couple of seconds as John tried to ignore the racing of his heart. Maybe it was just his imagination (or wishful thinking), but Usnavi was looking at him differently, too.

“What?” John finally asked him.

“Hm? Oh!” Usnavi responded, shaking himself out of his trance. “Well, I guess, I… I wanted to thank you. Y’know, for always being there. You were there for Sonny and Pete when I was gone, and you’re always been my best friend, right? Yeah, I mean yes. Of course. And even when I was having all those problems with who- with who I was, you still kept me… around, I guess. And it really helped. To have you there. Oh- and you’re a good worker, too, MUCH better than Sonny ever was, and even though I don’t see you as just my employee, I-” Usnavi shut up and shook his head minutely. “Thank you,” he finished.

John just looked at him and grinned. “That’s the death talkin’, ain’t it?”

“The- what?”

“Your near-death experience got you all sentimental and shit. I’ve seen you do it with everyone, and I guess that’s my spiel, huh?”

Usnavi smiled, chuckling nervously. “Yeah, I guess so.”

John laughed and clapped him on the shoulder. “Well, if we’re sharin’ confessions, I wanna thank YOU for hiring me and stickin’ around. I know you never actually chose to be my friend, but I’m happy you didn’t reject me or somethin’. Now you’re really more than that - I love you, man. And I’m glad it sounds like you feel the same. Even if it’s just the death talking.”

Usnavi turned red and tried to utter a few words, but nothing coherent came out. John just watched him in amusement. And maybe he was waiting for Usnavi to say something back, too. It felt nice hearing this kind of stuff.

Instead, they fell into silence then as the man frowned, becoming lost in his thoughts.

“Y’alright there?”

“Death…” Usnavi murmured under his breath. “Death… oh, DEATH!”

“What?”

“The hospital! They always take donations, I can give them my pickles!”

“Oh Jesus Christ, you’re still on the-”

“I’ll go now,” he continued, checking his watch. “Maybe I can get them to come pick them up. You think they’ll do it today? It’s eleven now, and they can’t close their kitchen ‘til - what, six? I mean, they must have a dinner rush-”

“Usnavi-”

“-so I can catch ‘em now, and they’ll be outta my hands by the end of the day-”

“ _Usnavi-_ ”

“-Plus, I bet they could really use ‘em, their food needs some work anyway, and after everything they did for us-”

“Usnavi, forget the fuckin’ pickles!” John nearly yelled, grabbing his arm to stop him from running clear out of the storeroom and, probably, all the way to the hospital.

He stopped in his tracks, looking back and forth between John and his arm. “What-”

“Sorry,” John muttered, dropping his grip and bringing his hands awkwardly to his sides. “I mean- yeah. The hospital’s a great idea. But… do you have to do all that now?”

“Um… do you… not WANT me to go now?”

There was another awkward pause.

“I don’t care, either way,” John lied, averting his eyes to one of the boxes on the floor. “I just thought… well-” he looked around, thinking desperately for an excuse other than ‘I just wanna stand here and talk about nothing’– “I thought… you almost just died. Because you walked out of the bodega alone. And you’re ready to do it again?”

Usnavi shrugged. “You gotta move on at some point, right? _No pare._ And besides, the danger’s passed.”

John hesitated, and then nodded reluctantly. “I guess you’re right.”

He grinned. “I’m glad you’re concerned about me, though. If you want I can call you and keep you on the line the whole way there.”

“That won’t be necessary,” John laughed, opening the storeroom door and ushering them out. “I’ll manage.”

“Geez, that took forever,” Sonny remarked as they walked back to the counter. “Any longer and I was gonna demand some compensation for all my work.”

“How many goods did you sell, exactly?” Usnavi asked.

“...None,” Sonny replied. “But how many goods were stolen by thugs comin’ in and demandin’ money? Also none. You’re welcome for that.”

Usnavi rolled his eyes at John and headed for the door. “Thanks, Sonny. And you’re gonna have to do nothin’ for a bit longer. I’ll be back, I’m gonna go get someone to pick up the pickles.”

“WHAT-”

“ _I’ll be right back,_ ” Usnavi repeated, ignoring his cousin’s protests and pulling the door open.

“Be safe,” John called.

He grinned back at him. “I’ll be fine.”

He turned and walked out, leaving the door chiming behind him.

~~~

Every ten minutes or so John found himself checking the clock again. He didn’t expect Usnavi to be back so early; the time he’d been gone was still well within reason. But still. You couldn’t blame him for being a little nervous.

“Dude.”

He turned to find Sonny glaring at him from the back. John had taken over cash register duties and Sonny had taken to experimenting with slushie flavors from the machine.

“What?”

“That’s like the fortieth time you checked the clock since Usnavi left.”

Okay, so maybe it was a little more than every ten minutes.

“So I’m a little anxious. Sue me.”

“I mean,” Sonny replied, hopping off his seat and walked over, “Maybe I’d get it if you were waiting for something. But let’s be honest.” He hopped onto the counter, plucked a chip bag from the stand, and opened it. “Usnavi’s gonna come in and you’re gonna stare at him when he’s not looking and you’re gonna stutter when he talks to you and nothing’s gonna get done. You’re both hopeless.”

John glared at him and he just shrugged and popped another chip into his mouth. “Just sayin’.”

The bodega bell chimed and he whipped his head around, but it was just Benny meandering in.

“Hullo,” he greeted dully, his face still absent.

“Hey, Benny. How are you doing?”

“I’m fine. Just came for a coffee.” He placed a crumpled-up dollar bill onto the counter and sighed, trying for a less-than-convincing smile.

“Sure thing,” John said cheerily in a futile attempt to coax a real smile onto his face. He made the coffee silently while Sonny tried to strike up a conversation with him. After a while, he gave up and they fell into a heavy silence. It seemed the water was taking an eternity to heat up.

“Where’s Usnavi?” Benny finally asked.

“He’s at the – well, he _should_ be at the hospital right now. He wanted to get rid of his surplus so he’s talkin’ to them about donating it.”

John glanced at the clock again.

“What do you mean, _should_ be?” There was almost a trace of concern in his voice.

“Well, no, he’s fine, just-”

“John’s freaking out cause the last time Usnavi went out by himself, he got kidnapped and almost killed.”

Benny nodded. “But it won’t… it’s not gonna happen again.”

“No, I know,” John agreed quickly. “That all passed. I’m just… overly worried.”

“Why?”

“Uh-”

He looked from Benny to Sonny, who was waggling his eyebrows amusedly.

“He’s my friend. And I care about him.”

“But he’s my cousin, and I’m not stressin’ at all,” Sonny pointed out, smirking.

John glared at him. Sonny popped another chip in his mouth. He turned to Benny, who might’ve looked confused if his gaze weren’t so empty.

“Fine,” John grunted, handing him his coffee and a Milky Way. “And maybe I… have certain feelings for him.”

“You’re…” Benny trailed off.

“Gay. Yes, I’m gay and I like Usnavi. There.”

Sonny snorted. “That’s the understatement of the year.”

“Shut up-”

“He’s in loooove,” he continued, singing and smiling dopily for dramatic effect. John hid his face in his hands.

“Of all the people I coulda told. Remind me not to tell Pete ANY more of my secrets.”

“You are?” Benny asked, and John nodded. It was hard to gauge his reaction, but in his state he was probably incapable of any strong emotion, anyway.

“What does Usnavi think?”

“He doesn’t know,” John replied.

“You didn’t tell him?”

“He tried,” Sonny cut in. “Multiple times, probably. But he always chickens out.”

“I do NOT-”

“You totally do.”

“I’m being _sensible._ I’m not tellin’ him.”

“Because you’re scared.”

“I’m not SCARED! I just… I’m just not that important to him. I mean, I know I am,” he backtracked, waving away Sonny’s exasperated glare, “But so is everybody else. Even if he didn’t feel the same, I’m not gonna make him think… make him think he has to treat me different, or something.”

“You _have_ to tell him,” Benny spoke up quietly, staring at the counter.

“I wish it was that easy, too. But… I just can’t.”

“You can’t,” Benny echoed.

He looked up, startling both John and Sonny, because all of a sudden the sullen, distant look was gone. He was all there, and the intensity of his look was disconcerting.

“You CAN’T? Don’t you _dare_ tell me you can’t man, not when it’s so easy. Not when all you gotta do is walk up to him and say it. _Fuck_ how you think he feels about it. He’s gonna know how _you_ feel and all you had to do was talk. So don’t _fucking_ say you can’t. You don’t GET to say you can’t until-”

His voice broke then and all of a sudden, it was if he shrank back into himself. The intensity was gone as soon as it came. His gaze was absent again.

“-Until you’re lookin’ at his headstone. Until words won’t cut it no more. Until he’s really gone.”

Benny picked up his coffee and walked to the door, looking back one last time before he left.

“That’s when you say you can’t.”

And he was out.

The bodega was silent once again as John turned to Sonny.

He simply shrugged back. “The man’s got a point.”

They had almost lost Usnavi. Hell, John HAD lost him before. And by miracles, he kept getting him back. But one day, they were gonna be out of miracles. Usnavi would only be there until he wasn’t anymore.

A reflection from a tazi whizzing by outside caught his eye. The mid-afternoon sun danced on the wall for a moment, flashing gold and disappearing in an instant.

And John realized what he had to do.

“Sonny, can you man the store for a while?”

The kid broke into a huge grin as he nodded. “I will, but you know he’s coming back soon, right?”

“I know,” John replied, hopping the counter and heading for the door. “But I gotta make a phone call.”

~~~

Two days had passed since Benny’s outburst at the bodega, and John stood right outside Usnavi’s front door. Even though he had long since made up his mind to tell him how he felt, that didn’t mean he had to do it right away. But now his preparations had been made and he had nothing else to wait for.

He took a deep breath and knocked.

Usnavi appeared a few moments later, groggily rubbing his eyes. He saw John, though, and put his hand down, blinking rapidly.

“Uh… hi, John.”

“Hello.”

“What’s up? I didn’t oversleep, right?”

“No, I just wanted to talk to you before the bodega opens.”

“Oh. Okay, um… come on in.”

John entered after him, shutting the door. The weak morning sun was peeking through the curtains, but it was still relatively dark in the apartment. Usnavi flipped on the lights and led him to the living room.

“What did you want to – what’s that?”

John held up the thin wrapped package he had brought and gave it to Usnavi.

“A present.”

“What’s the occasion?” he asked, inspecting it carefully.

“Uh – well, there isn’t one, not really. But it’s kinda what I wanted to talk to you about. Open it.”

He obeyed, tearing off the wrapping paper to reveal the simple wooden frame. Then he stared at it.

And stared.

And stared.

It seemed like he was silent for an eternity before he finally looked back up at John in awe.

“Oh my God.”

“Do you like it?”

He looked back down at it, a wonder-filled smile creeping up on his face.

“I love it. When did you-”

“Last night. My sister shipped it over and I got it yesterday.”

In the frame was the finished picture of Usnavi in the study back in the Laurens Manor, bathed in the heavy afternoon sunlight. It nearly took him all night to finish, including a run to a 24-hour grocery store for more art supplies, but he was rather proud of the finished project. The image was exactly how John saw him in real life, all the time.

“And you finished it?”

“Yeah, I mean, I _did_ promise I would, right?”

“I guess,” Usnavi replied, smiling down at the frame. “But what happened to ‘nothing gold can stay?’”

“Well, that’s the thing, it's true,” John replied, staring at the image as well. “So I have to make the most of the gold when I have it, and I’m gonna do whatever I have to do to take it for all it’s worth. And look – look at this. Do you know what this means to me?” John asked, pointing to the painting.

“No?”

“You’re gold,” he said, looking back up at Usnavi and staring right into his eyes. “You’re the light and the happiness and the warmth I was talking about, that I wanted. That’s all you, there. And I lost you twice already because nothin’ gold really stays for long. There ain’t no use tryin’ to protect us because I know one day you’ll be gone and it might be sooner than I want it to be. So that’s why I gotta give you this and make the most of my time with you and come over here to tell you that I’m in love with you, Usnavi.”

Usnavi stared back at him, motionless. John’s heart had already been racing since he opened the door, but now it nearly beat out of his chest as he tried to read the other man’s expression. It wasn’t exactly repulsed, which was a good sign, but the silence was still unnerving.

Usnavi looked back down at the painting.

John shifted his weight to one foot and stared at the curtains. “I’m sorry. You don’t have to say anything, I get it. I just needed you to know, I can’t keep it to myself until it’s too late to-”

The dull thud of something hitting fabric interrupted him, and John turned to catch a glimpse of the painting face-down on the couch.

And then Usnavi was kissing him.

He hadn’t even seen him move, but then suddenly there was a pair of lips on his own and two hands curled against his chest and every thought he had went flying out of his head in an instant. He closed his eyes, letting a warm feeling wash over him before pulling him closer and kissing him back. He ran his hands down to his waist as they kissed again, and again, and again.

Usnavi broke away to stare at him with that same odd look – the one, John realized, he’d once described as looking like he had hung the stars in the sky. And he finally spoke.

“You don’t know how long I've been hoping for you to say that.”

John guessed it was his turn to stare disbelievingly, because that’s what he was doing. “ _Really?_ ”

“Really,” Usnavi replied, his face splitting into a grin. “A long, _long_ time. Because I love you, too.”

“You do?”

“So much. I don’t even – you don’t-” Usnavi laughed and finished his statement by simply pulling John in and kissing him again. He ran his fingers through John’s hair – _oh, he could get used to that_ – he felt like he was floating. As he pulled him closer by the waist and kissed him harder, only one thought was running through his mind.

_This is it. This is gold._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> :)
> 
> PS can you BELIEVE there is only ONE chapter left in this ENTIRE story? That this one-hundred-seventy-something-THOUSAND-word monstrosity is reaching its close? Dude me neither


	18. Usnavi

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> THE  
> LAST  
> ONE

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the fact that I got food poisoning the night before I was going to edit and post this chapter? It's a sign the universe doesn't want this to end lol
> 
> but I'm better now and I've got a story to finish so sorry universe

“ _Buenos días, Abuela Claudia._ ”

Usnavi smiled at the headstone atop the hill and felt a light breeze whisper past. It rustled the tree that stood next to her; the only tree in the hilly cemetery. She had gotten, Usnavi noted, the only spot in the field where birds came and went at will. Every time he came, he saw a new one. Abuela would’ve liked that.

“I’d ask how you were doing, but I know you’re doing just fine up there. You’ve got your birds, and your stars.”

He squatted down, reached into his pocket, and sprinkled breadcrumbs around her headstone.

“Things are good now,” he continued, standing again and brushing the rest of the crumbs off his fingers. “I’m safe. You were probably most concerned about that, but it’s all okay now. Burr and I, we’ve made our amends. And everyone else is safe, too. Sonny’s pretty much back to his normal self. Pete… well, he’s doing alright. The doctors say his recovery is right on track. Benny – he’s coming around slowly, but we’re all helping him along. It’s just General Washington-” Usnavi glanced over at George’s marble headstone on a nearby hill, which was still littered with flowers and flags- “it’s just George who won’t be normal again. But I guess if anything had to happen, you guys would’ve wanted it to be this way.”

He smiled sadly at both headstones. It wasn’t exactly fair that the best types of people were the first ones to go, but that was life. The only thing the rest of them could do was tell their stories.

“Thank you. For everything you’ve done for us. And I hope you never feel bad for keeping my past from me. You kept me alive, and I owe you everything for that. I love you, Abuela. And give my love to George up there, too.”

He nodded up to the sky. Another breeze drifted along, as if carrying his message up to them. He smiled as a tiny yellow bird came into view, flitting through the wind and perching on the tree. It eyed the breadcrumbs, hopping back and forth, but was afraid to come closer.

“Oh! I almost forgot to tell you! I’m gonna have a kid,” Usnavi said. “Or, well, not really. But her name is Theo, and she’s Burr’s kid. I talked to your agency, and they’re gonna let her stay with me while Burr is in custody – he’s the one that was out to get me, by the way. He turned himself in yesterday, so we should be hearing from them in the next couple of days. Which is probably something I should’ve told John before I told you, but…”

He turned and looked back down the hill at the man, who was waiting for him at the bottom. Upon making eye contact, John smiled.

“He won’t mind,” Usnavi finished, smiling back. He waved him over and turned back around. “I hope.”

“Hi, Abuela Claudia,” John said, coming up to stand next to him. “Remember me?”

“‘Course you do,” Usnavi said, smiling. “You love John.” He leaned into John’s shoulder and took his hand.

He felt John chuckle softly and squeeze his hand back.

“So yeah, this happened, too, since I talked to you last. But then again, if you’re like literally anyone else in the entire barrio, you’re not surprised.”

John laughed again. “Yep. Abuela, your kid is now thirty dollars indebted to Vanessa. I can’t believe I gotta do this, but I think I gotta ban him from bettin’ on our relationship.”

Usnavi looked up at John. Ever since they got together, so much had changed. For the better. His headaches, for one, went away completely. Usnavi still wasn’t sure why, scientifically speaking, and neither was anyone else. But he reasoned it must have had something to do with the fact that around John, he felt more sure of himself than he’d ever felt. He knew exactly who he was and where he belonged. And above all else, he felt safe.

“Don’t worry,” he finally said. “I’m not taking any gambles anymore.”

John smiled at him and squeezed his hand again, then turned back to Abuela Claudia. “Thank you. For everything you did for him. And I promise you, he’s in good hands now. You can rest easy knowin’ that much is true.”

“It is,” Usnavi agreed, looking down at her stone on the hill. “I’m always gonna miss you, but you don’t need to worry about me. About anyone.”

They stood there in silence, feeling the breeze roll gently through. The yellow bird, probably having realized there was no threat there, mustered up the courage and flitted down to pick at the breadcrumbs. It eyed them warily for a moment before hopping off and flying away.

“You ready?” John said gently.

Usnavi nodded, looking down at the stone one more time. “Bye, Abuela. _Te amo mucho._ ”

“G’bye, Abuela Claudia.”

With one last squeeze of his hand, Usnavi and John turned and walked back down the hill.

~~~

Whether by fault of a pessimistic hospital or overzealous mortician, the hospital was just a short drive away from the cemetery. Either way, Benny picked them up and took them over there for a brief visit.

“You go on ahead,” John said to him. “I’m gonna ride over to the bodega and start openin’ up.”

“Call me if you need a ride back,” Benny added.

“Nah, I’ll walk. It’s a nice day.”

“Okay,” John said as he got out of the car – a repossessed taxi, but a car nonetheless. “Be safe.”

Usnavi grinned before he shut the door. “I always am.”

Visiting was always slightly uncomfortable because the nurses knew him by name, which made him seem incredibly injury-prone (or abusive) to the other people in the waiting room. He usually just said hi and walked right through.

He got to Pete’s room but stopped right outside the door as he caught a glimpse of a visitor already inside. It was Sonny, sitting beside his bed. Through the window, he could see Pete writing something in a black book and Sonny watching him, talking softly. As he watched, they both laughed and Sonny moved to wipe something off Pete’s cheek.

He was a little pissed because the kid was supposed to be in school, but whatever.

Pete said something and weakly closed the book and Sonny nodded, taking both his pen and the book and setting it gently on the bedside table. The other kid’s eyes had drooped shut and he began to speak before Sonny gently shushed him, pulled the thin blanket over his shoulders and pressed a button to recline the bed. When it seemed Pete was asleep, he smoothed down the covers, smiling affectionately. He then kissed Pete on the forehead and cradled his face for a moment before turning and walking to the door.

Usnavi barely had the capacity to feel like he was intruding on a private moment before the door opened and the two cousins were face-to-face. The fond smile on Sonny’s face was replaced with shock for just a moment until he spoke up first.

“Hey, cuz.”

“You’re supposed to be at school.”

He grinned sheepishly. “I’m only missin’ homeroom. What are they gonna do, slap my wrist?”

Usnavi rolled his eyes, smiling all the while. It occurred to him that he could, in fact, pretend he hadn't been peeking in on the two of them. The moment could remain private, at least in Sonny’s eyes.

“You really do love him, don’t you?” Usnavi said.

Well, never mind.

Thankfully, Sonny didn’t seem to care Usnavi's implied spying. He only smiled wider and looked back at the room.

“Yeah. I do.”

He turned back, and Usnavi was suddenly struck by how old he looked. It wasn’t just about the marks on his face still left from when he had been beat up. It wasn’t about him physically growing either, because that hadn’t actually happened in a while. But he _did_ grow up. He could see it in his stance, and in the baby fat completely gone from his face, and in the look in his eyes. It was a look that told him, yes, Sonny was capable of understanding, and feeling, and being in love. His little cousin wasn’t so little anymore.

“C’mere,” Usnavi said, pulling him into a tight hug. Sonny hugged him back, though hesitantly.

“Y’alright there?” he asked, his voice a little muffled by Usnavi’s shoulder.

“Can’t I just hug my cousin whenever I feel like it?”

“No.”

Usnavi pulled away, smiling. Despite Sony’s confusion, a happy grin was plastered on his face, too.

“Fine,” Usnavi admitted. “I’m just proud of you. And proud of the man you’re becoming. Although I’d with you slowed down a little, because I’m gonna miss my little Sonny.”

“Awww, thanks, mom,” Sonny said, rolling his eyes but beaming all the while. “But... I guess I do love you, cuz.”

Usnavi clapped him on the shoulder, grinning back. “I love you too,” he replied, ushering him in the right direction down the hall. “Now get to school. You ain’t THAT grown up yet.”

“I’m goin’, I’m goin’, he groaned, starting down the hall. Satisfied, Usnavi reached for the door to Pete’s room.

“Oh, and Usnavi?” Sonny called from a little ways down the hall.

“Yeah?”

“Try not to wake him. He needs his sleep.”

_Who’s the mom now,_ Usnavi though triumphantly, and admittedly, with a bit of pride.

“You got it.”

Sonny nodded and turned back down the hall, and Usnavi made his way into Pete’s room.

It was a lot quieter in there compared to the hustle and bustle of the rest of the hospital. The only sound he could make out was the steady beeping of an EKG monitor beside the bed.

On a small table sat a couple of get-well cards, some playing cards, bits of food and wrappers and Pete’s black book. Usnavi silently added his own card to the top of the pile.

It was sort of all he could do, really, while also keeping his promise to Sonny. It wasn’t like he could talk to him or hang out or anything like that. Still, considering the time it took to get there, the trip felt relatively unfulfilling.

Deciding to make himself useful, he began to clean up all the trash on the table, noticing with some exasperation that it was most definitely Sonny’s candy bar wrappers and crumbs of various kinds.

_Some things never change,_ he thought as he dumped it all in the trash can.

With nothing else to do, Usnavi was all set to leave until the black book caught his eye again.

No, those were Pete’s private thoughts. It wasn’t his to poke through. Especially when he was asleep right in front of him.

_On the OTHER hand,_ Usnavi thought, _maybe this concerns me. It probably has some stuff about Sonny, and I_ am _his legal guardian, so I technically have a right to know._

Eventually, his curiosity got the best of him and he slowly picked the book up. Pete was asleep, anyway. He could look, put it back, and leave, and nobody would know.

He opened it to where it had been bookmarked with a pen and was met with not words, but an image. _Of course, you idiot,_ Usnavi realized. _He’s an artist. This is his sketchbook._

The drawing seemed either unfinished or extremely abstract, or both. From what he could tell it consisted of many dark, flowing lines coming in from all sides and swirling together in some unified mass in the center. The shape looked familiar, but it was hard to tell with all the black strokes covering it from all angles.

“It’s a heart,” a quiet voice said.

Usnavi jumped and nearly dropped the book, looking frantically at a now-awake Pete. His eyes were trained on the picture and he didn’t seem angry, but that didn’t stop Usnavi from feeling a little guilty.

“Pete! I’m sorry, you were sleeping and I just – I didn’t mean to – I’m sorry. I was curious.”

“It’s cool,” Pete replied. “Everyone’s gonna see it anyway. It’s my next mural.”

“Oh.” was all Usnavi could reply, looking back down at it. Now that Pete said it, he could make out the shape: a human heart in the middle, surrounded on all sides by what must’ve been veins and arteries.

“See here, that’s the heart-” Pete brought up an arm and pointed out the shape- “and I still gotta draw more, but the rest is the arteries and stuff. And when I paint it, there’s gonna be colors. A lotta colors. All the colors I have, probably more. All around, and going through it…”

He pointed and traced the paths of the colors, and Usnavi could imagine the picture coming together on a wall. It was dynamic and flowing and bold, a mural that could make someone pause for a moment to take it in before continuing on their way.

“This is pretty great. How’d you come up with this?” he asked.

As if someone had flipped a switch, Pete seemed to retreat back into himself, falling silent and turning his eyes away.

“That’s how- It’s how I feel around...”

Silence.

“Around Sonny,” Usnavi finished. Pete nodded, barely discernible, and still staring at some unknown point in the other direction.

Usnavi stared at him for a long moment as Pete played with his hands and didn’t meet his eye.

The mural was for Sonny – that was _beautiful,_ and Usnavi nearly felt himself tearing up at the gesture, but it didn’t explain why Pete was suddenly so reserved, staring at his hands as if he was nervous or even a little ashamed of it.

Suddenly Usnavi realized it was because of _him_.

All this time, calling him a punk and a vandal and glaring at him whenever he came into sight, couldn’t have made him feel very adequate. This boy in front of him had the thickest skin of anyone he’d ever met, but he was still just that: a boy. Usnavi’s words still meant something to him. Pete was scared he wasn’t good enough, and for good reason: Usnavi couldn’t once remember saying that his and Sonny’s relationship was good, or okay, or even _valid_. And it was so much more than that.

“It’s amazing,” he said quietly.

Pete looked up, almost disbelievingly. “Really?” he asked.

Usnavi looked him straight in the eye and nodded. “The mural, and… you. What you do, in general. It’s all great. Really great.”

Pete kept staring, but said nothing.

“I mean, I know I haven’t said it much before. Or... at all, really. But you’re a good kid, Pete. And I’m sorry I never treated you all that well before. I guess I was just being really hard on you because you hung out with Sonny, y’know? And he deserves only the best people around him.”

Pete nodded in agreement, looking down at the book. “I know I ain’t the best. He could do better-”

“No, he couldn’t,” Usnavi interjected forcefully. “I mean, sure, maybe he could’ve fallen in love with someone who couldn’t be… you know, reasonably convicted of a felony, but he’s happiest when you’re around. And you’ve been there for him even when I couldn’t be – hell, you’ve probably saved his life more than once. And if that doesn’t make you good for him, then I don’t know what does. Bottom line, there aren’t many people out there better for him than you.”

Pete lay there in silence, his eyes dropping as if deep in thought. When he finally spoke, his voice was quiet.

“Honest?”

“One hundred percent,” Usnavi replied, smiling.

Pete looked up and gave him a half-smile, but his eyes still seemed droopy. “Can you- uh, can you say that one more time? I wanna get it on recording.”

“Absolutely not,” Usnavi shot back with a laugh. “I just bared my soul to you, that was a once-in-a-lifetime thing.”

“Damn,” Pete replied, but although it was in good humor, his voice was so weak Usnavi could barely hear him. That was when he suddenly remembered that the kid was sleeping before he had walked in.

“Shit. My one order from Sonny was to let you sleep and I already messed that up. I’ll go now, so you can rest.”

Pete nodded, and he seemed to be getting more tired by the second. Usnavi put his book back and gave him one quick nod, turning to make a silent exit.

“Hold up,” Pete called out suddenly.

He turned back around. “Yeah?”

“Could you do me a favor?”

Usnavi took a couple steps closer because his weary voice was getting really hard to hear. “Yeah?”

“Could you get Benny to come talk to me?”

“Benny?”

“Yeah. Uh…. George Washington saved my life. And a lot of other lives, too. I just feel like he’s gotta be… memorialized, y’know? We should remember him.”

Usnavi suddenly had an image of George and Abuela Claudia, their smiling faces side-by-side on the bodega and salon grates. Immortalized in color and forever assured of the safety of their neighborhood, together.

“Definitely. I’ll send him as soon as I can.”

“Thanks, man,” Pete half-said, half whispered.

“Now get some rest,” Usnavi replied, giving him another smile.

He needed no more prompting, and grinned back before finally letting his eyes shut.

Usnavi nodded to himself, turned, and walked out as quietly as he could.

~~~

“Usnavi, you’re late.”

“Chillax, you know you love me.”

John stopped him with a kiss on his way to the bodega counter.

“How’d the visit go?”

“Like a normal hospital visit,” he replied, shrugging. “Pete was sleeping. I almost cried. Y’know, the usual.”

“You- what?” John said, stopping and giving him a look. Usnavi chuckled and shook his head.

“It was fine. I’ll tell you the story later.”

They continued on opening up and greeting their regular customers as usual. There was Pablo, coming in for his sour lemonheads. Yolanda chatted over the phone in rapid-fire Spanish, and winked at Usnavi on her way out. Jose came in, a little drunk as usual, and left with a sack of rice over his shoulder. Julio came in a few minutes later and paid for the rice apologetically, half-shrugging in a ‘what are you gonna do’ kind of way. John stirred coffee at the cash register while Usnavi put on another pot of water to boil. He looked through the door and smiled contentedly at the street lit by the morning sun, leaning his head on John’s shoulder.

“I wanna take you out tonight,” John said out of nowhere.

“Me?”

“No, the cute guy standing behind you. Yes you, dork.”

“Where?”

“I dunno. Somewhere nice. Somewhere we can eat, and then… dance. You wanna dance tonight?”

“Oh, I don’t know,” Usnavi responded, grinning up at him. “I’m not very good at clubs.”

“No, definitely not a club. Somewhere nobody cares how you look.” John gave him a smirk.

“There aren’t a lot of places in New York you can dance and have nobody care.”

“I can think of one.”

The glimmer in John’s eye caught his curiosity, but he didn’t question further. There would be time to figure out what that meant. There would be plenty of time.

The bodega bell chimed and they both looked over at who had walked in.

“Hey, Mads!” John called.

James Madison game them both a polite wave before his tiny frame collapsed into a fit of coughing.

Usnavi laughed a little to himself as he prepared a cup of water and hopped over the counter. James took it gratefully, still rendered wordless by his cough.

“Thanks,” he said when it finally subsided. “I think I’m reacting to something in this city air.”

“I think you’re reactin’ to the air in general,” John mused mildly, and Usnavi had to bite back another laugh.

“You’re probably right,” he admitted, coughing weakly again. After another sip of water, and he shook his head and spoke. “Oh, but I came in here for a reason.”

“Cough drops?” Usnavi asked, and John snorted.

“No, but I’ll take those too.”

Usnavi shuffled down the aisle to retrieve them as he continued.

“Uh… since I’m going to be hanging around here, I wanted to let you know that my friend just… um, he just got a re-trial and was released from jail and he needed a place to stay so he’s moving in with me. So he’ll be coming around here once in a while. I brought him today, actually, I don’t know where he went.”

“Okay,” John replied. “Great! A new friend.”

“That’s the thing,” James said, suddenly looking very uncomfortable. “He isn’t exactly a new friend. And this is- um- more of a warning than anything.”

“Why? Who is it?”

As if on cue, the bodega bell chimed and a rush of cold air flooded the store. Usnavi emerged from the aisle, cough drops in hand, to a sight that made his blood boil.

A man had emerged in the doorway, flourishing his hands like they had all been graced by his presence. HIs gigantic poofy mass of hair was only slightly less ridiculous than his absurdly lush violet overcoat.

_Jefferson._

“What’d I miss?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that concludes The Washington Heights Project!!!! Omg I owe so many people SO MUCH for reading and commenting and giving kudos and being generally amazing people. This story has been a literal rollercoaster on all levels, INCLUDING physical, and I'm so thankful for all the readers that decided to come along for the ride! <3
> 
> Also side note: I have a couple extra scraps/ideas that I think I might be able to turn into an epilogue... I was thinking of developing and posting it here, but I'm undecided, let me know if you'd wanna read something like that?
> 
> Okay see you maybe later I LOVE YOU ALL


End file.
